Manipulation is the art of man yet, without man the woe only exists as she plays mans game. Manipulation is the holster that displays human form, for manipulation must feel power and the strong be weak. Allowing this power to overcome your strengths allows them to be victorious without blood drawn, only physical pain left unto internal ache. For manipulation lies with the heart of many that want what they can’t obtain thus afflicting their purported power onto the ones that pillaged their fatuous pawns in the art of gain. The very weakness of man can only crack to a certain declination, as the manipulation sees the fragility they bestow on their mortal plane. How it sickens the ones who see beyond this fiendish game. Seeing them convoluted unto this chessboard as they continue to guard their king and queen as they check mate the unguarded knight and use their lamentable queen for their own self gain. How much should be endured to see the manipulations that causes so much pain. One day in a foreseen future as retribution will condemn the very wicked game they played. The reckoning of their weaknesses for manipulation miss judged their next move for their king and queen is captured in the manipulative game for they will see the fragility they bestowed on others as their own reflection of disdain.
Exactly how many times does it take for someone to get “Burned” before the realization that there is no more pain. The pain we internalize yet don’t project. Ruminating within our minds so in turn, we build walls, we create situations or circumstances from the ashes left from the flames that yet again we allowed for it to burn. Life is full of burns yet, we let those walls crumble in those moments of trust, love, and the idea that the flames don’t exist and the burns fade away. So, the walls fall, the water rushes in and all that’s left are glowing ambers that no longer burn because there is no more pain that ruminates. The scars exist and its true beauty remains as we realize that the pain was just an internal reflection of our own light.
“Today is only one day in all the days that will ever be. But what will happen in all the other days that ever come can depend on what you do today” ERNEST HEMINGWAY, For Whom the Bell Tolls