Destruction follows your wake like wildflowers on an untreaded path;
As the stench of blood and ash makes you question the sanity you thought you had;
You’re suffocating in the flames you have only yourself to blame;
Breath escapes you–
–but child, fire cannot help but burn.
You are not your rage or your brilliance,
You are not,
You are not;
Darling, wipe the poison off your chin.
Claw the skin off those bones.
Let the lava
And when white-hot defiance blazes from your existence
and incinerates the illusion of the world you thought was your own,
and you’re blinded by a light from the ashes of devastation you never believed your hands were capable of,
that is when you know who you are.
– “Goddess of Destruction”