To Kill A Svengali (Final)

(1) To Lure A Svengali

(2) To Snare A Svengali


You’d have me believe that life is a race

Governed by the likes of your kind

If only you looked closer at the tartan track, you’d notice,

That I’m not only a participant in this “race” —

I’m the gun-wielding starter —

— The roaring crowd — the checkered flag waver.

It surprises no one, but you — pay attention —

— I am the whole stadium.

You’re a bystander — a potential witness — to how I’m highly favoured,

Drop the Svengali act and step aside —

I’m doing you a favour because you’re not even good at that.

Self-knowledge dictates I start and run my own races

Notice the scoreboard as I fill every vacant placement.

Such is the greatness of tempering incessant anguish.

No one is better at being me more than I’ll ever be;

As such, I work to outdo myself at every single opportunity.

The gems I excavate on my worst days have more weight.

In pursuit of depth, they touch base with the Earth’s core

With a fluency that dwarfs what you’d parse to me as amazing.

Should be a borderline crime, enduring such levels of basic,

Especially at the cost of my patience.

Listen, I have love for humanity,

I have love for who we are

Who we could be — our flaws and all — but —

I have no love for you. I’ve searched, but I have none to spare.

Specifically for you and those like you.

Because no well-meaning human carries themselves

The way that you do. 

– O.D. ©2022

Art by: ArthurHenri

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