I can see the angles of your form
Lodged inside the molten metal,
Banging on it's orange-white surface.
What an affronting sound,
The last pitted effort of the soul
Attempting to escape the custom shackles
Built out of metal and spite and grief.
I am used to this sound.
.
The Blacksmith of Dreams
Would be rubbish if he couldn't
Pick out the whispering plea
Of the soul inside the metal cage.
I am good at my job but better
At choosing the fate of foolish men.
Are you ready, I wonder,
To receive the final shaping blow
And succumb to the future I've made?
About the Creator
Silver Daux
Writer of the dark! Think of it like flipping rocks, the weird little stories underneath are my jam and jelly. Jam and butter? Just jam. Absolutely no use of AI in any of my works :)
Ah, also:
Tiktok/Insta: harbingerofsnake
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