Baptized in Fire
Living With Rage Filled Grief
With the royalty flowing through my veins, arragonace was a given. The phantom in the distance creeps forward as I ready my stance for a vulgar display of power. Ignorance and youth persuade me to believe I have a voice in serious situations.
Confidence faded as I slowly realized the identity of the shadowy figure. Grief buckled my knees as the foot steps closer. A public hanging was now in session, with my own father holding a blazing noose.
Fear wrapped its cold fingers around my spine as I begged for another solution. A blinding light preluded the suffering, as my screams could be heard across the nation. Groveling on the floor while half my appearance melts off, mercy still hasn’t shown her face.
A Scar Bleeds Red
Ruptured dermis clings to the cloth of my bandages while hues mixed with shades of pink complement my bruised ego. Deeming me a coward while turning my eye into a pit of hellfire seemingly wasnt enough. My humiliation needed to be on full display for all to gander.
Forgetting what home even was, banishment became one with my personality. As my torment heightened with every sunrise, a curse that brewed in the well of hatred. I dreamed of ending this madness and would happily trade my soul for a chance at normality.
For Glory
To task a teenager with conquering the globe is already abuse in a Survivor format. But hunting the Avatar, a being who hasn’t been seen in over a century, deserves a front row seat in a mental asylum. Lunacy aside, what even happens when I find said Savior?
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The odds are stacked higher than any mountain an earthbender could conjure. However, a ghost from the past means nothing when compared to my father. My anger can burn the roots of reality, and no legend or myth is going to bar me from my honor.
Wholeheartedly accepting my fate, and waking up every morning with a new attempt at destroying the world’s spiritual stability. Ashes of negativity cloud all vision as my determination stems from my own foolhardy self-condemnation.
Cut My Tongue Out
Victim-blaming is the ethos, as I justify my aggressor’s actions. A ridiculous plan that would certainly seal our own men’s fate didn’t deserve to be chastised. An advancement in genocide, no matter the cost, should’ve left me in awe. I question why I wasn’t allowed to be a child rolling around in blood money.
A few choice statements became the anchor to my downfall. Life could’ve been easier if I knew shutting up was an option. Before sanity took hold, I was destined to hone my skills beside the spawn of Satan(my sister) and enjoy a life pillaging others.
I failed to meet the standards of a king by having the courage to speak out but not the strength to fight back. Lineage seared off the bone, I now spark fire amongst the tarnished.
Black Sheep
The universe is not at fault for my vicious circumstances, nor the illustrator of my mania. Painting my features with the sins of Fire Lord created detestation at every glance. Acceptance is thy enemy, as this throbbing scar tells me to chase the throne.
A prince whose presence once struck fear solely based on birthright was reduced to laughter and pity. Nobility in the dumpster, my sentences are now interrupted with contradiction or disrespect.
![Every_admiral_Zhao_scene_Avatar_the_last_Airbender.gif [crop output image]](https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!IdOc!,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F1772472f-62f2-4fc1-b296-237af194dba4_589x448.gif "Every_admiral_Zhao_scene_Avatar_the_last_Airbender.gif [crop output image]")
A joke amongst those who used to worship the ground I walked on. Classless in a hierarchy-based system, with no other way out but reclaim what was stolen. I will not rest until my prestige is restored, no matter where my obsession takes me.
The Arson of who I used to Be
Rage will continue to consume me for as long as I can’t turn back the hands of time. The hope I have is the celebration of others’ bloodshed. Tossing and turning through the night as trauma rocks me to sleep. All to wake up in an existence that I can’t accept. Inhaling regret only for indignity to escape from my lungs, the shame of a country rests heavily on my shoulders.
No amount of cauterization could provide the therapy needed to stop the bleeding. Soul-searching, growth, and peace are all nonsense when my pride is intertwined with self-loathing. With balance being a foreign concept, I am a mother’s nightmare.
great post! watching avatar right now and i think you capture zuko's angst very well