This poem came to me during a dark time after I selfishly hurt someone very close to me. I wish I could say it was an accident, but I understood what I was doing. Who knew the consequences would be so excruciating?
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 cold, still frozen, But never supposed to be fatal. Inside, ecstasy cries I’m a master, Outside, dread whispers You are a fool, As nature breaks its globe, Transforms into blizzard— A beast that refuses to settle when I turn the world upright. Crystals sharpen to daggers, Pierce those I love, Paint the world red faded pink. When fury dies in its time. A silent, white grave remains. All I can do is Extract a thousand knives of ice and Offer my breath to heaven In exchange for yours. If there’s a god, I am not he, and he will not hear me. They will not hear me. You cannot hear me. This is just.
© Copyright by Syndal
If you enjoy reading my posts, please like, comment, and/or subscribe. I’d love to connect with you.