Death is inevitable, so fate in this way must be true. But I also believe there is a place for free will in whatever you may determine as not being inevitable, like hot fudge or sprinkles.

A hardened heart in a frosty knoll

Chest of compressed grasses

Is a frigid, fragile, undressed soul

Hidden as it passes

Through you, what you never controlled--

Yourself, faded,

 All warmth one day traded for cold.


The End

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