Member Poem

They told me the board was mine to claim,
That I held the dice in a righteous game.
But every square I stepped was known
Pre-mapped paths etched into stone.

“Choose!” they cheered, as I played my part,
Unaware the script was penned from start.
A marionette with strings unseen,
Dancing free in a gilded machine.

The devil grins in tailored suits,
Deals inked in gold, roots in rotten roots.
He whispers truth with sugar breath:
"Even angels play for death."

Right or wrong? A trick of light.
Morals shifting by the night.
The ones who claim to rule the flame
Are often authors of the shame.

And what is choice but a painted door,
When every hallway's known before?
Is it free will, or just disguise.
A velvet lie in freedom’s guise?

God likes to watch, they softly said,
As pawns were crowned and kingdoms bled.
He watches not to judge or heal
But to observe how men conceal.

They sell you stars, they brand the sky,
Then call you mad when you ask why.
But ask!—for questions forge the blade
That cuts through truths the powerful made.

Not all that glows is born from light,
Not every wrong was birthed in night.
And not everything that feels like grace
Will walk beside you face to face.

So doubt the frame, unmask the play
What seems like dawn may just be grey.
For wisdom grows when comfort dies,
And freedom lives in asking why.