Weapon

I wield a weapon,

Though, it's not an ordinary

Or stereotypical weapon.

My weapon has come equipped,

With extraordinary powers.

Being able to create life,

Or destroy it.

My weapon has a fear,

It has atelophobia.

But it hides behind a sanguine mask,

Hiding the fact it hates imperfection,

For it sees the diaphanous between realms.

My weapon has its own fantasy,

It dreams of being at the pinnacle of fame.

It's called foolish,

Or even ridiculous at times.

But deep down,

It knows that dream can be achieved.

It knows that that dream can succeed.

Eventually, the outside world's words,

Will begin to unravel the lies,

And come to peace with my weapon.