Swan Letter

There I was absorbing the great swirls of unclipped lips hedged around me, aggravating to a storm.

And I, sat still in the eye of the current. 

A seat of puppetry.

The woven whispered words wailed louder in woe,

 in inaction,

 in regret,

yet found no remedy in the thought.

The bitterness got bitter as perceived opinions slapped my face with my deceit, my sham and my failed leadership.

They told me no more. I remained still in the seat of puppetry.

Control was out of my control. Leadership began to lead me.

I feared the fear of families.

I spoke none yet I spoke.

The raging cries roared as crisis watered the earth.

The body ask me what is the next course,

It was theirs and not mine to dictate.

All was on me even though it isn’t my course to lead.

I tried to reach out to every present noise but far it was,

reverberated on the reports and sheets.

A debeaked bird in a white prison,

Yet it dawned on me everyday on what I should say? 

Have it your way.

The last of me was inked before the eternal sleep.

Signed

Mr President.

First written in Catalyst Crib.

 Now here.