Black Swan
Direct me,
with the script in your hand.
Two can play at this game,
when the curtains unfurl,
they won't have a clue.

I'll be the Thalia to your Melpomene,
in the storm's needle eye of feathers.
My arias will paint the skies white
while you wallow in your low ballads.
Careful not to ruffle your plume,
while you tiptoe around the lakeside.
Shadows cast across the ripples
on which false lights reflect a smile.

Our stage is split into
black and white,
like two faces of a coin,
tossed in mid-air,
flipping and turning,
waiting to see who would fall face flat,
and who would face the heavens.

The black swan's neck arcs in the final verse of its song,
as the audience weeps for the perfect tragic finish.

Author's Note: Unfortunately, what chess doesn't teach you is that mind games are never in black and white. Chess references, again? I can't help it. xD