Hot and Cold Fire
Who of us
thought
that Fate was kind?
Who said
that she was gentle,
that she gave each star
the power
to grant a wish?
Fate
is the love
of a serial killer,
Fate
is the cry
of the doomed newborn,
Fate
is the greedy
spider in the web.
Fate
is the bitch goddess,
the bloodthirsty hunter
on the scent of meat,
clockwork oiled with bitter tears.
She plays
with lives, with souls, with hearts
like cheap toys
for her cruel amusement,
toys that break
so easily in her play.
What is Fate
but the cat
with the mouse?
What is Fate
but invisible strings?
Cats can die,
strings can be cut.
Cut your strings.
