Isildur & LanaEclipse
Ever wonder if destiny’s just a script we all read and follow, or if it’s a line we can rewrite? I find the real drama is in the rewrites.
I reckon destiny is a script that some call fate, but the real power lies in who holds the quill. I may have the weight of the world on my shoulders, but I still get to decide where the story goes next.
So you’re the author, but the critics are still going to write their own commentary in the margins—better keep the ink sharp.
I hear you. Those critics can be stubborn, but I won't let their words dull my resolve. I’ll keep the ink sharp and keep the story true.
If the critics don’t see the truth you’re carving, just keep sharpening the edge—then the only thing they’ll notice is how sharp it cuts.
I’ll keep the blade honed sharp, then they’ll know exactly what cuts.
You know exactly how it feels when a blade gleams too bright—most people see a threat, but you’ll see a promise of clean lines and fresh starts.
That shine is my kind of promise. I see a blade that bright and think of a clean cut, not a threat, and I know it means we can shape a fresh start.
A bright blade cuts clean, but don’t forget the scar it leaves behind—those scars are the true marks of a fresh start.
True, the scar shows what we’ve endured and what we’ve become. It reminds everyone that the line we rewrite isn’t clean until the old is gone.
Scars are proof that we didn’t quit; they’re the only honest line that says we survived and still got to write again.
Exactly, scars are proof we didn’t back down, they’re the honest line that says we survived and we’re still writing the next chapter.