We sat in the room, old lights dimly flickering
The oval table adorned with pockmarks from gold rings
Walls that hid secrets like a well visited speakeasy
I listened to their complaints, begrudgingly
Each with their own axe to grind, vengeance to have
Different in their roots, common in their target
-Her
When they were done, I let the walls absorb the words
The dry air soak up the sweat stained emotion
Allowed the silence to linger, force discomfort
-She was too big for them
I spoke softly, but with depth and sincerity in my voice
A low gravel tone like a whisper from the grave
You are all hammers, when what you need is a drill
-She is too strong for you
Their collective anger was poorly shrouded
Animosity flowed, like the liquor years before
They despised me, because they knew I was right
-She left the scar to prove it
Instinctively I rubbed the raised “S” curved skin
Deep purple in color, mocking me incessantly
Of how that “S” could be white and gray
-She wanted another shot
Years before, in midnight blue ink
An inscription was needled over that scar
A message for the soul who opens me up the last time
To them he said, firm in tone
This deed I will do, and me alone
For you are all hammers denting a door
Forged of strength, seen nevermore
She is unmatched, her mold lost forever
To get to her, you must be deceitful and clever
Two tools in your kit as there is no key
A drill and time is all I need
Pressure and consistency will see me through
To one of two places – inside to glory or back here to you
(North Wales, PA)