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A poem I wrote for a fellow dragon-writer.
Violence begets violence.
Yet, what lies within each arm?
One is a crushing palm, striking down, power crackling in its wake. It would smash upon its target, smothering it still, then collect the shattered pieces with its wicked fingers, smashing it into a fist.
The other,
Resists.
The other splays its claw as the palm crushes upon it, sinking wounds deep into the assailant. It defies such a simple smothering. It stakes its claim in existence, finding purchase in a ground it does not claim for itself.
It fights not out of a desire to kill, but to live.
The crushing palm takes offense to its self-inflicted wounds. It would cleave the world in half to spite the claw, and lament still that the claw exists.
ResistanceArcuaViolence begets violence.
Yet, what lies within each arm?
One is a crushing palm, striking down, power crackling in its wake. It would smash upon its target, smothering it still, then collect the shattered pieces with its wicked fingers, smashing it into a fist.
The other,
Resists.
The other splays its claw as the palm crushes upon it, sinking wounds deep into the assailant. It defies such a simple smothering. It stakes its claim in existence, finding purchase in a ground it does not claim for itself.
It fights not out of a desire to kill, but to live.
The crushing palm takes offense to its self-inflicted wounds. It would cleave the world in half to spite the claw, and lament still that the claw exists.
The resisting claw takes offense that its claim to existence is challenged so callously. It would cleave the palm that moves itself to oppress the world, and lament that the palm still seeks to crush.
Category Poetry / All
Species Unspecified / Any
Size 50 x 50px
File Size 22.8 kB
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