It is mine! I found it and by my strength and my cleverness I made it mine! You are weak and stupid; you will be my slaves. By the power I hold in my hand, I will keep you weak. I will teach you to worship my strength and my cunning. You may hate me but you will never escape me. I hold the power in my clenched fist.

 He has come for me. He drives me on to madness. I see myself and I am his slave; he is darkness. Where are the mirrors that will show me my greatness? show me my cleverness? I am greater than him! (Please, I must be greater than him.) I rule the world! (I am small. I weak. I am broken.) But still he drives me on and I queen of all the world! I am lost. I despise myself. I cannot change. I cannot give back what I have taken. I cannot open my clenched fist.

 I am great!

 I am vile.

 Help me! – I cannot open my clenched fist.

 The sword is sharp. The blade cuts cleanly. The wound is healed. The battle is over. Never again will I take. Without a hand to close, I will be forever weak and broken. Never again will I raise my head in scorn of those around me. But, ah bliss, I have been delivered from that which I took by my strength and my cleverness; I am delivered from my clenched fist.

 Softly close my eyes. Dreams come gentle and sweet. The waters wash and cleanse me. Even the memory of fear fades. Upheld, I am cradled by love. I look to where the horrid fist once was and behold, I am healed. A new clean hand has grown there – a hand that is open and giving and free!