Power Struggle by Venus Fung (16, Hong Kong)

I struggle with power.
I struggle with the viper in my veins, the insidious unknown, the water that runs deeper than ink in snow.
Power knows no enemy, no enemy but I alone; 

Until –
power clashed with her.
A new heirloom I bore from the aching bone;
the marrow, the oxygen, the wound of the womb. Now on its knees, it – at the mercy of her throne, in the way a prisoner kneels, toying us all;
chin in, head down. Power was never small.
The tamer and her beast, both I adored –
till they cease to be mine.
Evermore.
A rope of scar,
emblem of her dagger,
align, with the cut cord of me;
I see her mother in the scarlet of her eye.
But she was the enemy – now.
Power knows no enemy.
It only knows a good host, a moth forged in fire, a blood thicket crown.
And I struggle with power
when it sits, chained novel marble
by the feet of the traitor who raised her blade and let loose of the thread that ties her to me –
but power
will never not struggle. 

​Venus Fung is a sixteen-year-old appreciator of literary art based in Hong Kong. Complex literature, well-written lyrical masterpieces and deep conversations make up the bulk of her personality; under her pen, anything could be her muse. She believes that there is a meaning to all that exists if it is read and looked at enough times. Writing is her preferred medium of conversation with herself, and with those who appreciate the arts within life the way she does. She hopes to inspire, but even more so she hopes to simply be there and support those who are struggling through her own words.


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