Trapped in a place far between
the recesses of my mind
and the core being that I strive to be,
is a war
almost 12 years in the making.
Sides drawn between the image that
glares back at me everyday
And the spectral form of the essence of my existence

A push-pull stalemate
has my body switching from one extreme to the next
without a moments hesitation.
So violent.
So infrequent,
that not even the bridge drawn between the chaos
can manage to find the connection that
leads to one side or the other

And both sides have gotten so lost in their dilemmas,
That neither them nor the land
know what they are fighting about.
Only that their differentiaing ideals
cause turmoil so long as both are in existence

And now enter the third side,
9 years into a war that has split
the core of the land for its own preservation.
Attempting to play the peacemaker.
And our hero walks forth
and graps hold of the rope
that has lassoed the supporting pillars of the land
to the ground,
And attempts to draw both sides to the center,
In a desperate attempt to save
the remains of the fallen

But our champion has his own internal confliction-
Whether to supress the darkness
in order to bring forth the end of this turmoil
or whether to allow the madness that has engulfed his essence
to consume his flesh and the land along with it

And so his internal tug of war begins
One day, pulling the land out of the abyss
and the next
letting the chaos spread through the cracks of the broken plane

And then there is the fourth
playing God to this world
and all players involved
And as he watches his lands burn, his champion suffer,
and his own existence fade,
he does nothing but pray for the demise to end
And on he watches,
letting each force act without his guiding hand
Hoping that one day,
The hero will pull the two sides back together
Even though the hero has no essence
Even though the hero is powerless to his own dissension

The End

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