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Burning seconds

As an artist and Prophet of Discord,

I weave chaos into my digital art,

In a world where order is often abhorred,

I let my spirit play its part.

My room is cluttered with tools of trade,

Cables, keyboards,

Flowers and ash,

A chaos that cannot be contained,

As colors and shapes before me lie.

Inspiration in disorder,

I find,

My mind lost in contemplation,

An escape from realities unkind,

To a world of imagination.

But a mentor's words have pierced my soul,

To ponder my reality,

beyond the illusion,

The location of my spirit,

my ultimate goal,

To break free from this self-made prison.

My doubts and fears,

a burden to bear,

In a world of politics and division,

Where chaos reigns,

and truth is rare,

A storm approaching,

a world's decision.

In this moment of realization,

My spirit rises above,

and I float,

A portrait of myself,

a revelation,

A moment in time,

captured by my own art.

My spirit,

trapped within these walls,

A self-imposed prison,

hard to break,

But I must heed the prophet's calls,

And confront the world, for my spirit's sake.

A Metalisa NFT,

a metaphor,

A digital art piece,

a prison of its own,

A token of value,

yet so much more,

A world trapped,

its fate unknown.

I break free from this prison of mine,

With my art,

a message to convey,

A prophet of discord,

a voice divine,

To save the world from its own decay.



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