A poem inspired by the Muse of Cold Earth
Nightmare Song
Alas, twice cut
The blade of moral extinction
A razor of infinite possibility
I crane my neck around your shoulder to see the results of the test
-You pat my head and tell me it’s okay
-My grip tightens, filling white veins with purple paint
A cut above the rest
A spear in the side of the restless
The young, the cursed and the talented
Because artists die by age 26
The night is mine, fair and foul and full of chances to fail again
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