Once we have climbed the greasy pole,
We seek enjoyable pursuits.
We think power equals pleasure;
We pretend that we devour,
At length, and from a place of strength,
All of our past annoyances
And irritations. But do we?
Pleasure as a settling of scores
Is just revenge in poor disguise.
We know revenge in any form
Is like a cocktail with no spark.
So is this power such a lark?