A Phoenix Rising from the Ashes
What are you?
A creature wounded without its consent
dragging a sorrow that still colours the present
but they say "pain has to be lived through
if you ever want to reach the dreams you once drew".
All these thoughts come running to your balcony,
the death, the sickness and the agony.
You almost drown in that well of sadness
this is what they all call madness.
The memories, oh, they are so painful
but you are not allowed to break the rule.
The butterfly will only then transform
when all the stages are performed.
The horrors of life did not leave you untouched
you have that red, blood-dripping scratch.
The veil of lies kindly withdraws
what you most crave for, the justice that never was.
What you don't know, what is still dormant
is that you can't avoid or hide from torrents.
Still you will rise a stronger person
and you will heal, the wounds can't worsen.
Catastrophes you deemed unbearable
are terrible, and you will feel so breakable,
though, pain will not destroy you
and you will learn a thing or two.
What are you?
so broken and so fragile are you?
I see that clearly without glasses
You are nothing but a phoenix rising from the ashes.
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