cracks in the stone that binds me

or what will follow

from cracks in the stone that binds me,
these words spill out.
I do not know what will come first,
or what will follow—
all I know is the aftermath of my destruction.
it is all I have known for a very long time.

the tower lays fallen at my feet
and I cannot bring myself to weep.
I know what has caused this.
I know how it happened.
I know who did this.

. . . me.

it was me.

everything. . .

I built the tower,
I lived in the tower,
I loved the tower,
I conspired against the tower,
and I knocked the tower down
and burnt most of the rubble to ash.

but as I sit here,
on the black soil ground,
with my knees brought to my chest,
and my arms hugging tight my legs,
I cannot bring myself to look and see if all that was inside has burnt up, too.

I have always been destined to fall,
but did it have to come so soon?

if I have always been destined to fall,
then why did it have to come so late?

my hair is already cut and dyed,
my fingertips are already burned,
and my heart now has three large scars to show for my efforts.
scars only I can see.
scars only I can feel.
and I'm the only one who knows they're there.

one is from the people I miss.

one is from my disconnectedness with those I have now.

and one, the final one, the biggest one—
the middle one—
is from all the bad things that have happened.

I know that they will remain there forever.
my goal is not to erase them.
but I do wish for them to fade,
for them to stop reopening.

but if I change—
and if I will, it'll be so drastically—
what will follow?

if I throw away my pattern,
then I have no guide but my cards.
what path will I follow?
what direction shall I choose?
who will I be?

simply put, I do not know.
and I am afraid.
and so, I stay here, in the ruins of my queendom.
begging for naught to come.