Poem - Omega King's Prize

Omega King’s Prize

Safety in sight but washed beyond reach

I wrecked on the rocks out of habit

It started when he fell for the lie and took me out

I fell for their lives

And lost them

I was hung out to die

And cut myself down

I should be standing

But I’m on the ground

Brought down by a new problem to suffer

I’m a lone piece surrounded by my set

And beset by the opposing king

The victorious villain teeters on the precipice of his ideal ever after

Sick and charming, he was regified by his syndicate

He voices a familiar patter

I wish for a stomach settler

A bromo to stomach his gloat

I am hung by his words

He appreciates the effect

He’s determined to be the end of me

The end of I and the end of the life I love

My opponent is emboldened by the chained invincibles

I am besieged by a man in a mainour crown

He speaks his rotten rhetoric loud and clear

“Everything to you

Your last and your only

Every moment for me

My hand will guide yours

You will not escape my grip again

Hope?

Done.

Lost?

Alone.

The dread hope of living through a war lost

Every light extinguished by me

Just for you

My bit consignment

My crime, knowledge

Let them know, you belong to me

They failed and gave you to me”

His words contaminate the air

They have no free hands to raise

No bodies rush to my defense

They are restrained from action by his plan

Bound to witness an absconding

Imprisoned instantly in mortal hell

He’s as determined as Hades dragging away his sister’s daughter

Their voices protest his will

“You will not win

She is not yours

Subject to no one”

I breath the air and feel it light upon my tongue

Fire pours into me like a swallow of lava

Muscles protest movement

Skeleton denies its presence

My soul pushes harder and forces my body into action

A fight to knock him off his stolen throne before he can sit

End the theft before he wins

I stand to tear him down

With my bare hands to break his crown

I stand and ruin him myself

Destroy his plan

Ground him with my fist

The bit’s attack

The prey’s defense

He never imagined

A crack in his jaw

He’s not the first glass king to break

The moment registers

Shock precedes anger

Anger succumbs to disgust

“Am I not appealing?

Not a thrill to be a tormenter knocked to the ground by a victim’s hands?

Not pleasurable to face the girl down from the ground?

You?

Done.

Me?

Won.

I’ll fight to fall again.

Get this, I will never be your chattel.”

His heart, black with frostbite

Barbecues under my fire

I whelm to the depths

I fight the loss of me

Hopeless and humbled?

I am unafraid of my knees

The victim bears no blame when the monster would sin against her

Just pity for the monster who mistakes the silence for surrender

The dire is done

The set rallies

A king revenged

A victorious girl