Nemesis

there is a story
of which
could not be false
for proof I hold
within my own hands
from tongue to paper
i penned each chapter
peeling the raw layers
of experience
and bullshit
i purge my own found knowledge
to answer the questions
with another
here in the deep and narrow
where i trudge my character
and forget self
in epilogue it begins
at the end
where all things
come round
where thy nemesis
can be found
for it is he who sifted
amongst my written pages
until he happened upon
a lonely road
beyond the edge
before the fall
in the paused moments
of chaos
beaten and bound
from a logic
romanticized
a manifestation
of all things lost
he would come to know
his equivalent
his other
and soon after
would come to have his way
beat by beat he bled
and took down with him
all that he did not understand
nor believe in
nor love
and before him
on his knees
I lay in the wake of it all
He had no explanation
nor remorse
nor admission of guilt
and in the slippery scope
of things
he nodded toward my space
acknowledged my existence
for he now knew his place
as he was not the hero
but the chains to which
he would bind
antagonize
and challenge
this nemesis knew
he nodded and smiled
this was not where things come to end
but begin
with eyes upon each other
clearly, this was just
for as we turned our backs
we would face again
in prologue perhaps
in some distant future
when the time presents itself
where the dust settles
on the winds of yesteryear
this man, my nem
will gladly place before me
myself in mirrored image
and i will overcome
only to find
typed into form
self’s final words
and we shall shake on it
his hand in mine own
eye to eye, we see truth
where trust does not exist
for it is a shadowy path
this fiction
and we are the great divide