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Poetry eternal fatality

The World Between the Words
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Pride
Seeks to prove
I am a god,

So I twirl ice around my finger,
Kindle a storm to life.
Small, a flurry of velvet flakes,
Still frigid,
But never supposed to be fatal.

Inside, ecstasy cries I’m a master,
Outside, dread whispers You're a fool,

As nature breaks its globe,
Transforms into blizzard—
A beast that refuses to settle
When I turn the world upright.
Crystal sharpens to daggers,
Pierces those I love,
Paints hell anew.

Not rose-pink or sunset-pink.
Pink of blood backdropped with snow.

When fury dies in its time.
A silent grave remains.
All I can do is
Extract a thousand knives of ice and
Offer my breath to heaven--
Too distant--
In exchange for yours.

If there’s a god, I am not he.
He will not hear me.
They will not hear me.
You will not hear me.

Where is The Lake of Fire?
Where is The One Who Fell?
Only I exist in blinding wasteland.
Numb and undying and burning with cold.
This is justice.
 

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