His Pale Face

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A marble man stands alone
Wrapped in fur amid the ice and snow
Watching the chaos sprung from him
His grin a flake of frost
Watching as a homeworld burns
And as a great tree falls
Crystals of life shatter and whip by him in the wind
So many souls tossed away as dust
Great icicles shatter as the storm blows in
His breath fogs out and disappates
An icy choir sings out through the lonely weather
And the pinnacles of a cold empire begins to come crashing down
It could truly be the end
Unless a fire should ignite
But the satisfied look on his pale face says to the world
That he will not be the one to fix what he has done
And be the one to light it.





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