Gravity

A storm inside, neatly packaged in lines - anger like gravity, which doesn't argue, but simply pulls everything down. It feels like it's not about forgiveness at all, but about an unfinished task: the mission hangs over your shoulders, and every step is calculated. The princess here isn't a fairy tale archetype, but a reason for calculation - an ironically sweet reason to restore balance to the world after all. It sounds cold and diary-like in its honesty: there are no dramatic monologues, just a measured assessment of the situation - clouds are gathering, there's no one left to save, and the heart sinks like an object under the weight of facts. In this fall, there is also something liberating: revenge is like order, and even if a trail of blood remains at the end, clarity also remains.