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
flow.

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.

–Β “Goddess of Destruction”

LL.

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