The Most Dangerous Man Poem by Jesse Ellsbury

I revel in the world around me, in the trees and clouds and oceans,
I romp around and call to the hills and the hills call back to me
in unspoken languages, the pangs of this are anguishing,
snow has melted, flowers wilted, I thought that they would bloom
but the water melded and it compelled the sky to turn to gloom.

I curl up as the curtain of night falls on the day’s deck of cards,
I take refuge in the tent of night,
remember to forget how birds took flight,
watch as my enemies destroy themselves with spite.
For I am eager to rebuild, as I do every day, the morning unimaginably large.

It grows, collapses, composes, relapses, everything works in sequence,
the past only hurts because it’s so recent – the frequency is variable,
I was malleable until they made me all but unsalvageable,

I debated options – how much could I be lost in?
To continue into summer or relapse into autumn?
They made me stop picking brains and start picking cotton,
the system is a ruse, abused, I’ve been misused, the truth
is that the most dangerous man is he who has nothing to lose.