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Mercy, the Stranger #poetry #poetrydaily

Mercy came knocking once, a pale wanderer draped in dawn, with weary eyes and gentle hands, carrying no sword, only the burden of understanding. But the wicked knew not her face. Their hearts were citadels of stone, where compassion died unnamed and every wound became a weapon. They barred the gates. For mercy is a stranger in the hearts of the wicked. She walks their halls unseen, a ghost among shadows, whispering of forgiveness to ears that worship vengeance. They drink from poisoned wells and call bitterness wisdom. They sharpen grief into blades and wear cruelty like a crown. Where mercy offers a bridge, they build a wall. Where mercy kneels, they strike. And so she leaves quietly, taking her light with her, while darkness settles deeper into chambers already cold. The wicked do not fear mercy, they fear what mercy reveals: that beneath their iron masks, beneath their kingdoms of pride, beneath the ruins they call strength, there lives a trembling truth they dare not face. For merc...
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Little Psycho #poem #freeverse

“Little psycho” 
that’s the name you gave me,
wrapped in laughter,
served with a smile you thought convincing.

You said it like you had read me,
like you had mapped the pulse beneath my skin,
like my silence was madness
instead of measurement.

You read my energy wrong.

You danced in counterfeit joy,
acting light, acting harmless,
trying to tilt the board
before I even chose my side.
You thought I didn’t see the strategy
behind your grin.

Little did you know,
I am quiet,
but I am wise.
I don’t just enter games,
I study them.

While you celebrated your imaginary victory,
I was arranging pieces.
Not loudly.
Not hurriedly.
Just precisely.

You mistook my stillness for weakness.
You mistook my patience for confusion.
But I was never lost,
I was calculating.

And in return,
I made you a pawn
in a chess game you didn’t know
you were playing.

One small move,
and suddenly
your laughter shifted.
One silent decision,
and the board changed.

How does it feel
to be outplayed
by the “little psycho”?

Life, hey,
that’s it.

Sometimes the loudest player
isn’t the strongest.
Sometimes the quiet one
is already three moves ahead.


© 2026 Gloria Penelope

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