I could cover the walls of my mind with didactic discourse,
With the point of preparing myself to be challenged.
For a never to be uttered retort,
I shall stack the shelves of insolence
and break my back stoking the fires of righteous intent.
I shall chart detailed maps of my justification,
And mark on all the clocks my hour.
When rudely, at the laborious culmination of my toils,
I find the moment stolen from me,
My purpose is dashed and has been delivered to me on a platter
Before I'm allowed to deliver my first band of infantry.
I recoil in my refusal to admit that my prize was less an objective
As my ability to press my weight over another.
As red fades still to ember,
I eat quietly my cake, splitting crumbs with a knife.My lemon scorched tongue illiterate of thanks.