Purgatory
Pull me through the cracked ice that lay beneath my feet. Let me fall with what I created.
Is it not too late to turn back? Will the cracks that spread themselves around me last to hold my mistakes?
I used to have time, but I waited too long. I never anticipated the weakness of the solid foundations of nature.
Approximately how long do I have until it gives way to the awesome might of untruly actions? I still wait.
I try nothing; all but nothing happens. They follow me; they walk in the shadows that lag behind me since the rise of the sun.
Just, or unjust? I fall into no specific entitlement.
I fall, splitting my image into two beings, but also falling into both categories as one named being.
Hitting the ground acquires a scar that will never be healed; a reminder that only haunts the mind of evil and unjust that the being has brought to other beings around him.
Although, the other duplicate foil has the same scar, but yearns for it to be healed; tortured by the pain-staking evil of its counterpart.
As both parts search for the cure, they attempt with a Purgatorial Median.
Long waiting for redemption, only a suffering reminder will keep them both at making corrections of their past actions.