Poem: The Move

Strategic maneuvering
to get ahead of everyone
and not stay in the middle of the pack.

Stomachs settle
for he must do better
and time will eventually be heard.

Some he can answer and be not open-ended 
like strangers reciting problems
on the world stage.

Sorrowful voices do not listen and 
hands aren't raised in the air
because he does not own this.

Strategic moves
on a wooden chessboard and 
he is aiming for the king.

Sins empty on checkmate
for not sure what will happen now
except he has lost.

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