Hinoeuma

"Fire horse woman,"
he spat with venom,
"You live up to your legacy."
"They should've stuck with tradition
and killed you at birth."

Stinging and stunned

by the force of it,

I saw the hopelessness

of his expression and knew then

prophecy's truth.

Who am I but I?

Twilight my time,

and chaos my restless soul;

He promised his own destruction

by choosing to love.

Helpless resignation

in his eyes and heart,

his anger the last weapon

he'll ever hope to brandish:

Who am I but I?