Mr. Malum

Mr. Malum's got a secret

he keeps when giving speeches.

Just a whispering precision

that cuts through hesitation with a sharp

and able wit to keep the dogs at bay

When the truth arrives

you won't believe your eyes.

He's triumphs pessimist,

but he's no less content

With the world in the grip of his hands

he'll crush the air out of its lungs.

Say, "We don't want him to have it all..."

but now it's just too late to ask

because his hold has turned so tight.

His puppets to the left, and

his pawns to line the right,

but every eye is front and center.

A cool intoxication from the sap that

trickles down his branches to their mouths.

When the truth arrives

you won't believe your eyes.

A vicious champion,

but he's no less content.

His hold has turned so tight,

the air we're barely breathing's not enough.

In this final gasp that rattles up to bed

the last thing we will see is Mr. Malum

tighten his tie

when he slips in his suit.

A link to the cuff

and the shine of his shoes.

When the truth arrived

you didn't trust your eyes.

You had your chance,

but you turned away again.

You turned your eyes away again.