Between sanity and grief, a fine line.

We had burned the warlock’s lover alive.

His incantations ruled the elements —

with words so ancient, smooth, and venomous —

he summoned winds with fiery eloquence.

Destruction is our fated punishment.


You can find this poem, and the rest for this contest on WattPad: https://www.wattpad.com/story/306715590-moon-gate

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