Magician Poem by Uriah Hamilton

The twisting night
laced with crime and deceit
could reveal all hearts
as sinister and unsympathetic
in a seemingly treacherous flight
of survival and trepidation.

When you're nervous within,
you could bring a case against
the last person you slept with
or your brother the priest;
there is no one trustworthy
in a moment of mental defeat.

My feet are paralyzed
like a car with a broken ignition switch
unable to turn over and drive;
have you ever felt
like you were the last person alive?

Don't talk to me so innocently
like you've never taken a man down;
stop playing me as a pawn or a clown
in pursuit of minor change or tarnished gold;
I never forget anything I've been told
and I know your rap sheet too well.

I'm ready for any predicament,
any level of Dante's Hell;
I can withstand any blow or violent attack,
I'm not one to turn squeamish,
put my hand to the plow and gaze back.

Carve me out with a kitchen utensil
or a double-edged knife,
after so many grievances
lodged against God and man,
I don't work to preserve my life.

I've got to turn over a new rock
and disappear within;
if you're anything less than a magician,
you'll never escape your enemy's trap door
or hidden chamber,
only the clever make their way to sunlight again.