While picking out poems to post here, I came across this poem. The poem was written and published in November of 2012. Don't know if I was a prophet, or just paranoid.
Illness Assumed
master manipulators,
impossible not to believe,
reality not a state of being,
but a resource to exploit,
fears played,
a deck of cards,
or chess pieces on a board,
until forced into corners,
doing as they want,
checkmate,
defeated once again.
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