Hand of fate
My hand has stayed for quite some time of late,
My dreams do not help me see my fate,
Darkness crawls inside my frail mind,
There is no love for those who're kind.
My sweat preceeds my every move, my every action hollow,
I cannot smile or care, as I pity all my sorrow.
Arrows beckon me to share their fate and splinter,
Wander among the worlds that have been turned to cinder.
Alas it is not me that people care to see,
There is a voice, a heart, but there's no real me.
I have a mind, a soul, wasting them away,
Yet all I can do is hate my fate and sway.
Death beckons me to show my teeth and fight,
But I cannot but smile at the sight of fright.
As every flower has its thorns, and every heart a soul,
So shall I have a path to tread, faltering His goal.
The hand of fate is nothing but illusion,
A child's game, amplifying dillusion.
I don't believe like I others do,
That anything is true.
And so I give my so called fate to you...