And so the storm comes
As I knew it would
too stubborn
too proud
the tools
the weapons
the pawns
are scattered.
A lonely king
no rooks,
no knights,
no pawns,
a single castle looms in the distance
shrouded in fate
a tower perhaps
not salvation.
I could have stayed there
cowering in the dirt
expecting to escape the coming fire
but my path is set
my moves are clear
habits are traps they say.
this is an old habit.
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