Payback Season
A hush descends, the city sleeps, but echoes still remain, Of sharp reports in shadowed streets, a secret, whispered name. They flaunt their spoils, their gaudy gleam, a world they think they own, But I move unseen, a phantom dream, a motive yet unknown. You see the surface, judge the deed, through lenses blurred and blind, But truth's a seed, a buried need, a reckoning defined. This path I tread, it's not by chance, no careless whim or spree, But fate's advance, a circumstance, that only I can foresee. A current surges, quick and stark, a pulse against my ear, Each breath a spark within the dark, fueled by resolve and fear. He seeks reprieve, a moment's grace, a hope against the chill, But finds no trace in time or space, just purpose, stark and still. This season turns, a quiet storm, that gathers in the mind, Each move performs a measured form, deliberate and refined. I walk alone, a singular stride, where shadows twist and turn, With purpose shown, deep down inside, a lesson they must learn. Streetlights hum a mournful tune, in fog that drifts and swirls, Beneath the moon, till waking noon, this restless city whirls. No slumber sweet for souls like mine, when darkness holds its sway, Through hours that bleed, in pale moonshine, I navigate the gray. They watch and wait, from unseen lairs, with malice in their gaze, But I prepare for unseen snares, in countless winding ways. This veiled domain, where fates collide, and destinies are cast, To rise and reign, or be denied, a future built to last. The city's weight upon my soul, a burden understood, Beyond control, taking its toll, yet tempered into good. Forged in fire, through trials deep, where lesser spirits break, Ambitions leap, while others sleep, for consequence's sake. No whispered plea for soft release, no tremor of regret, But inner peace, a burning fleece, for balance to collect. In shadowed play, my silent vow, to claim what's justly due, Here and now, and anyhow, the payback season through.
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A hush descends, the city sleeps, but echoes still remain, Of sharp reports in shadowed streets, a secret, whispered name. They flaunt their spoils, their gaudy gleam, a world they think they own, But I move unseen, a phantom dream, a motive yet unknown. You see the surface, judge the deed, through lenses blurred and blind, But truth's a seed, a buried need, a reckoning defined. This path I tread, it's not by chance, no careless whim or spree, But fate's advance, a circumstance, that only I can foresee. A current surges, quick and stark, a pulse against my ear, Each breath a spark within the dark, fueled by resolve and fear. He seeks reprieve, a moment's grace, a hope against the chill, But finds no trace in time or space, just purpose, stark and still. This season turns, a quiet storm, that gathers in the mind, Each move performs a measured form, deliberate and refined. I walk alone, a singular stride, where shadows twist and turn, With purpose shown, deep down inside, a lesson they must learn. Streetlights hum a mournful tune, in fog that drifts and swirls, Beneath the moon, till waking noon, this restless city whirls. No slumber sweet for souls like mine, when darkness holds its sway, Through hours that bleed, in pale moonshine, I navigate the gray. They watch and wait, from unseen lairs, with malice in their gaze, But I prepare for unseen snares, in countless winding ways. This veiled domain, where fates collide, and destinies are cast, To rise and reign, or be denied, a future built to last. The city's weight upon my soul, a burden understood, Beyond control, taking its toll, yet tempered into good. Forged in fire, through trials deep, where lesser spirits break, Ambitions leap, while others sleep, for consequence's sake. No whispered plea for soft release, no tremor of regret, But inner peace, a burning fleece, for balance to collect. In shadowed play, my silent vow, to claim what's justly due, Here and now, and anyhow, the payback season through.
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