……an unbalance in our favor, similar to another limb, once crafted, or are we deceived, this ghost arm feels greater than those who simply believe, it’s a tool often used to feed one’s greed. It can make others bleed, even the wielder if he doesn’t take heed, they better read the fine print before they pass it onto their seeds. Power doesn’t ask, it takes; makes it’s own path, regardless of what was there in its place, and then sport it in your face like it was in good taste, it moves with haste, often times at the rate of its master’s lustful chase. It feels no disgrace, as long as the powerless are moving to its base. Power and unbalance, come from the same womb, and will lie in the same tomb, get swept up by the same broom, occupy the same room, exist within the same foot and fingerprint. Very few can hold onto it for long, it’s effects are intoxicating, making the best of us swerve and crash, that’s why most try and stash some cash before the smash and that final dash; but cash can lead to more power, and then another crash.