By Damien Knight
The machinations of fate
They do not function as you will
You can choose to fight it
Run if you desire and thats fine
Me, I say once more I know mine
I saw the dreams, the visions
Her eyes emerald and cinemon
Only I determine who “My Sora” is
Not even she would know until
Until she were in my arms
But Aniya, I am sure is not here
Not in this world at all
A figment who just happens to be vague
Yes vague enough that I might find
One who matches her descriptors
I dreamt a child killed my friend
She did so and then died later
I mused on the sadness of fate
Is that how I feel now
That I someway somehow
Watched some niave kill my dreams
Like a young child accidently
Slaying an old friend?
I am empty and that is fate
I will find my hearts desire
That is me fighting destiny
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The Shade of Writing 
As I examine my personal beliefs and faith in divinity (or lack thereof) I find I am forced to destroy old ways of thought, killing off what once was a comforting friend and in doing so I also kill the naive child in me, recall I am trans, I was born in a female body. I assume the little girl was who I once was, young naive a follower and that she is taking the blame for the death of these ideals, yet she as I grow died at that age when I could vocalize and cry over my “fate” as she looked about 6 years old (the same age I wept and told my father life had to be a dream, and argued I was in fact a boy. ) that I lost innocence at an age when I child should not have
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