The Trickster’s Tournament

Apolitical as I may seem

I rarely ever be,

For I am the residue of a tournament

A devious Trickster’s Meet!

 

Now I was born in a normal family

With some honest bread to eat.

We slept by dozens on empty stomachs

But were never preached to cheat.

 

Oh but the Devil is a cunning fellow

He knows how to make ends meet

It was none other than I

With whom he shared his seat.

 

Candies look so good in colour

Displayed on counters by the street

For I was only eight

In oblivion with Greed!

 

I held his strong finger

As he led me across the road

I left the shanty behind

And he took me for a stroll.

 

The world here seemed different

Everything had a subtle glow

Ashamed of my presence in this haven

I seemed to have walked out of coal.

 

He read my thoughts in tandem

As we rode on a bicycle  of gold

He gave it to me as a gift,

This thing that he just stole.

 

This was my introduction to desire

And it rose as quick as it could

The flames rose like in a funeral pyre

Where the body burns with wood.

 

After a while as I sat down

To take some rest and relax my muscle

A music fell in my ears

The view changed to a colourful hustle.

 

“Where are we?” I asked,

A little cautious of the crowd.

For I had never seen such colour

Or heard anything as loud.

 

“A Tournament” he replied,

And flashed his devilish smile

I believed him in a jiffy

Unaware of his intent so wile.

 

We walked to the ticket counter

A lady with lips so red

Just bent over to show her bosom

“Boy, are you ready for the spread?”

 

The unsightly sight was unnerving

Yet something did lure

“I will participate in the tournament.”

I said, like I had never been more sure.

 

And from there my fate changed

For better or for worse

The game were a devil’s delight

And the prize, a camouflaged curse.

 

From stall to stall, from con to con

I moved learning tricks of the trade

For mastery may only be about one skill

But treachery was a two sided blade.

 

Little did I know that day

My innocence was sold not gone.

Remember the Devil held my finger

I was merely a delightful pawn.

 

There were levels to his game

A series of tricks set through

With every step my soul burnt a little

By the end there was barely some ashy residue.

 

But my zeal was out for envy

For my skin shone like gold

The Devil kept me on a platter

Little did I know, how I was sold?

 

There was no looking back

From where I had been

I asked him what next to do

He replied, “Politics is the scene!”

 

I pictured myself as a world leader

And the Devil’s laughter roared

“They are just pawns in the game.” he said,

“Son, you are made for more.”

 

And so a new game started,

A trickster’s delight

But the stakes were high

Not people but countries were to fight.

 

The con was never-ending

The treachery was destructive

So colossal was the trick

It fooled everyone who lived.

 

My fame grew three folds

But the curse had taken shape

I had the power to destroy the world

But my soul had no escape.

 

I saw countries fall to shambles

Mighty leaders fall from grace

And with every serving to evil

The burning glow glistened on my face.

 

People think I am an incarnation

Of Alien or God they say

But little do they know

Of my evil trickster ways.

 

Such is my mastery in con

That I fooled the master himself

Now I run the Trickster’s Tournament

The Devil’s Head adorns my shelf!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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