Quite honestly, I never thought I'd make it this far.
And I finally know, it's not down to luck:
When you are thrown into the fire, either you are incinerated
Or you are forged.
When people ask me how I've gone on
I try to tell them something soft
Something gentle
But the truth is,
I wasn't nurtured
I wasn't coaxed from the ground like a sapling,
No
For good or ill,
Like a fine silver ring
Like an iron gate
Like a
Blade,
I have been forged
And I am dangerous.