Satellite images flash in his eye's.
Looking for weakness in search of demise.
For lack of defence, he must prove.
A fault in my plan, in every move.
He sighed in relief, and let out a yawn.
While taking my Knight, using a Pawn.
Computing my options, I counter attack.
A Rook undefended... I strike back.
In all her cunning the Queen comes running.
Wrath in her cup, surprisingly stunning.
Bishops fall as she pours out her vials.
Splattering blood all over my tiles.
Spontaneous laugh I notice a glitch.
Mistakenly judged she left out a stitch.
Her King unprotected, and feeling rejected.
Humbly subjected, Politically corrected.
Checkmate.














Comments
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The only flower in a concrete garden, destined to be the rock that would not harden.
Hydroman.
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