“You can never do this.”
My tender fingers smiled, for they had work to do. They had been moulding a crown. Soldered by naysayers and caste by those who mocked. Plated with ductile dreams of gold, then polished by cutting words, it could now impart spectral reflections. Reflections so vivid, they could hurt the eyes of those who stared with spite. It was spectacular the way light got emitted from the embedded gems, which were themselves dark inside, since they were knifed by rejections. My thumb chuckled, since this was the last push the diamond shaped from nothing but hearts of coal would need. The masterpiece was ready, now waiting to rest on my head for the world to see and to control a mind that would do exactly what it was told it could not.
It would conquer.

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