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Rated: · Poetry · Death · #1925143
short poem, representing change
"Open your wings, can you fly?"
"Open your eyes, are you alive?"
Beautifully broken the butterfly lies.
Was it decay that broke her?
She dwells forgotten and forever broken.
In her place a fire blooms.
In the folds of the flame a phoenix blossoms.
Dazzling fire, dangerous heat.
Standing tall she creates chaos in her wake.
Wings stretched out, she’s ready to fly.
Beware little phoenix darkness consumes feeding the fire.
Rushing heat from fiery red wings,
My skin burns in her embrace.
The butterfly is nothing but chard ash, the phoenix has lost everything.
However hate still lingers in her core,
and now she dances, in the ashes
the ashes of her vengeance,
of he life.
Destruction is everywhere, peace is forgotten.
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