ObservationThe greed, the hunger for love—
for the creation of hands and soul.
You ate the false fruit, chased hollow dreams.
Watched others claw for the same poison.
Now you birth what cost you most.
Scars run deep on your body, carved by your own hand.
For this time, the fruit was yours alone—
not for their favor, not for their praise.
Let them fight for glory,
while you, emptied yet eternal,
feel your fallen mask upon your chest.
At last, it was born—
The Creation.
Your most fragile, truest self.
Forever seen.0.1639%
