Well, SherlockianGirl, I did warn you. The muse has descended and here it is. Watch out! Chauvelin Poetry!
I
I.
I am the only one who knows,
The only one who can.
A man of the mind.
A man of the land.
I?
Aye.
It is I who throws down the gauntlet of despair and takes up the challenge.
I know and I hear.
For I do not fear.
This is my den.
Come to me.
I?
Aye.
It is I who can comprehend.
I am too proud,
To remain very low,
Not a man of power,
A man of control.
I?
Aye.
Hate? What is Hate?
Tell me, for I am amiss.
My blood is no feeling.
My soul is not this.
Hatred? Not I.
Destruction.
Aye?
I.
One man dares to laugh.
One soul mocks as it wins.
One is not content with half.
One must kill me where my soul begins.
I?
Aye.
Lily white! Tricolor!
Fingers and finders.
Oh France! Motherland!
How much of you is mine!
How much of you I no longer see,
For I,
I?
I can no longer be the I, that I once was.
The Past? The Future?
I do not know any longer.
Only Destruction has grown stronger.
And I.
I?
Aye.