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?

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

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