Absolute

I see decisions made

in those eyes of yours

when the glares

make your enemies crumple, punishments given

in the words

that deliberately cut,

the sentences that amplify

your disapproval

and paint pictures out of blood rushing from those you target. Expressions create images

of the final blows

and chisels carving

into headstones,

of coffins lined with nails

as shovels bore through dirt,

we give the signal

for you to start

digging our graves

and our lives

turn into chess games

when the gavel hits the wood

and we're led away

in chains.

Silence is golden

when you find a time to rest,

and yet it speaks volumes

all on its own,

because your actions

and reactions

and what you never do at all

spark a feeling

more than terror

and no less than desperation,

while the rest of us dance

like ballerinas in a

twisted Cinderella

waiting for our prince

to whisk us away

from the decisions

that are

absolute.