is it just something stuck between what destroys?
Faith has bestowed upon me a chance,
mind merely stuck in a trance,
so I will partake in Death's Dance.
With the battlefield now laid bare,
a formality given certainty,
while the others cry with peculiarity.
I see the hollow corpse,
is it merely a mirror-broken royal horse?
Stuck in time,
while the kettle burns,
now watch the smoke,
as it all returns.
Forget the particulars,
we are not dissimilar.
Hydra snake demon garden,
welcome the Warden.