If this year has been anything to me,
It has been the development of my ability
To lull
To deceive into certainty
Only to then pull the rug out,
Leaving my opponents flailing
Sadly searching over their mistakes
Trying to find where they went wrong,
As if viewing a caper montage
Near the end of a long, confusing film.

It's been the development
Of my latent ability
To suppress the thought
That my opponents care about anything
Except for winning
And the realization,
In my own victories,
That winning is not everything to me.

It has been the cycle
Of decontextualization,
Dehumanization,
And reimplementation
Of Others and Otherness,
Of Selfhood and Such.

I have learned
To distrust loops
As repetition is a deadly lie
And to make my moves with discretion,
Pushing for the progress
That one says one deserves.

A careful innocence
Is now tainted
With the ability
To aggressively pursue
And consequently conquer,
To activate
A dangerous edge in me
If need be
As the edge is a necessity.

A hunger for invincibility
Is actualized with certainty
In the self alone,
And only then.