That Which Pierces Iron

Wishes invert and pile up as a curse. Come, gather 'round. I shall grant your wishes. Granted! The wish you never should have made! Because I told you to throw that sort of thing away, you fell far, far away. Clutch your head, hang it low, and lay the groundwork to cover yourself. Make them scream—it’s not my fault. Proclaim loudly that it is by no means our fault. The swirling vortex of my naive thoughts—the blue sky suddenly splits open, turning into a red rain that dyes everything. The everyday reality I could never accept, and the roar that echoed through the sky—they are the scream unleashed by the symbol resting in my hand as it surged with heat. A spew of lead, surging with heat, pierced the iron hull and spoke directly to my mind. I nodded deeply, tears glistening.