A Player of Games - 2024

You have set your claws in me,
And I wager not by accident.
Gentle chains by cunning mind sent;
A smile for only my eyes to see.

Am I another instrument,
Whose strings you pluck at will?
The binds keened, then sat still:
Tear as I might, I made no dent.
​
I basked in your bright attention,
And gloom fell when it was withheld.
Yet by this injustice compelled,
I play the game toward ascension.