The Sycophant

The Sycophant

Why do I speak to thee
When you are deaf to my words,
Nodding dumbly without reason,
My free thoughts lost in that black cavity
Neither saved nor preserved but lost to darkness
As you echo my speech
Revealing the hollowness beneath your empty shell?
Your embraces constrict me
Your refusal to challenge, your ready surrender
Leaving no obstacle to overcome, nothing to bar my path
That I do not cease and question
Do not stop and wonder
But only fall forward
In my intellectual charges
And become like a stumbling child
Never truly able to learn to walk
And become all too happy to drag myself along my belly
Through the dirt like a lowly serpent
Poisoned by your servitude
That I become venomous to those who fail to do likewise.
Your devoted mediocrity swallows me
Like the pale Moon does the Sun
Eclipsing day for night.
You are no golden angel, no muse, no goddess
But a mirror that reflects my luminance
Blinding me with my own reflection
That I might not see the true world
But only that which you reinforce,
A gilded cage of my own make,
Causing me to close my eyes
Pierced and fearing my own Reason
That I flee from it, smother it, cause myself to dull
And regress, devolve, revert
Into that primordial savage
Lost in the shadows
To thrash and scream
Because of you,
You undermining sycophant.