With all the dormant guilt
If I had a planet, built
It would be so heavy,
The solar system will need a levee
To stave off, its sinking pull.
My spirit wasn’t dead but quiescent
While he thought it deficient
A few years under his thumb
My spirit, felt like pond scum
That stuck under a wandering shoe.
There was latent rage
That was difficult to assuage
I stored it all, like white phosphorous
Waiting for ignition, was torturous
Relieved, as fire burned his world to ashes.
