The Black Room (Poem by Ismael Plet, Sketch by Josh Buckley)





The Black Room

Sitting in front of the zebra in silence.
I approach closer to the other side,
Unnoticeable.
I swiftly move my pieces with an elegance.
Every step is precisely calculated.
I know that one mistake will be the end.
I cleverly and immaculately play the game.
I smirk,
I persuade the opponent into thinking that I am a zebra.
The taste of victory
Gallops next to the knights, and the shops.
Nothing less but finishing at the top.
The Zebra arrives.
I turn into a black lion with manes of fire.
My heartbeat is visible in the veins of my eyes.
Stunned, not believing that I captured the king,
I take a deep breath.

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