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Descent
A child of a dying wish
the glass shards of my shattered soul
draw blood
in the dark.
I was born
with stars in my eyes,
the cosmos in my head -
a ruler of the skies.
A fallen angel,
with tears of ink
staining my love,
fear in my heart.
Cruel daggers of ice
slice through my whisper-skin,
leaving scars,
angry, red,
like the monster inside.
Don't look back
into the abyss,
the swirling cesspool
of frigid light
and welcoming darkness.
Smoky tendrils encircle my throat,
grasping,
choking.
Not a single sound escapes my lips
as my feet touch the ground.
Falling no more,
discarded by the heavens,
I am no one's daughter.
Now, there is only me -
me,
and my nightmares.
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When I wrote this poem, I was going through a time where I felt like I was engulfed in negativity. However, I saw a sort of intiguing beauty about it. This is what my piece is intended to relay: the astonishing loveliness of desolation.