Merciel

Who wouldn’t become Kilgrave if given
the power to control minds? Whether for food
or love or to bring about world peace, we want
the world to abide with us. We know what’s right.
Do others? We won’t know until we tell them so.
A superhero’s greatest power is control
over people, whether through strength or charm
or binding webs. The lines we vow to respect
wash away in a single wave of force.
The appetite does not relax when fed;
it only expands, and self-reflections
are never seen. Crusades saturate souls,
nuance blends into shadows. Justice remains,
guided by a compass attracted to good
intentions, but always our own, leading
to depths we never explored before we had
control.

Even God may have been the love he claims
before impatience pushed him to practice
tough love on the flocks who kept acting up.
Ripping children from wombs, crushing their skulls,
aborting nations to build a paradise
where nobody dies. Christ himself did not
shed as much blood as the Israelites did.
What would Jesus do? He would die for the world
rather than save it with blood, sweat, and tears
of villains who refuse to just listen.
He forgave them anyway.

Kevin lost his chance to be saved the moment
his parents stuck the needle in his back. They extended
his life, expanded his strength, extinguished his soul.
Redemption never comes without castration
nor does the desire for it. Jesus conquered death
without assault rifles and neutron bombs,
without pillars of fire and forced obedience,
just by accepting it. The saints followed
his footsteps into the caves. Crusaders
prop up his body in front of a flag,
plug up his wounds and pierce his lapels
with campaign pins. Armed with rifles and dick
pumped up, they made a savior for real men
to follow and honest women to obey.
They made a hero to bring about the peace
they desire. A paradise in their own image.