The Tower

The cunning and the forceful will win me both equally
It is the cocksure, the arrogant, and the false certainty of this that I cannot stand
It burns now, The Tower.
Perhaps we built it knowing we could never really live there.
I am changing, I am willing. I am Proteus.
But you have no surety of who you are at all
I didn’t create you or push you out, in this place
Nor did I posses any trace of leverage to assume you a changed state
And yet you hung it all on me as if I were there, only to take it
A prisoner in our Tower.
Nevermind
There is another now, and — like the pomegranate; broken —
I can finally see all the stars