How fair was it to blue the steel
clarity could have won.
if not for Celsius's involvement?
Fahrenheit would brighten her blade, yet subtle the temper of rash and shade.
A time of second guessing to absolve the fatal ring, I time the wager to the crashing of stones assembled once again to hold
your hammer.
Their unnatural order,
yet cannot reclaim the zeal.
We talk and whisper in sorrow and/or regret, the passing of beauty astonished, fallen,
before the plummet of regret.

The absence of the leap
Repeats whn I fall asleep.