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The Phoenix



Into the flames of self-disgust and anguish.

Crashing, I fell, engulfed by raging fire.

Burning alive, in this cruel hell, I languish.

Lit by my metaphoric funeral pyre.

What is my crime, the cause of my depression.

Is it the wasted life I could not live.

Is it the narcissistic self-obsession.

That I once found so easy to forgive.

Slowly, I claw my way back into reason.

Softly I breathe a shallow breath of calm.

Lifting my eyes, I glimpse a change of season.

Sunlight and fire conspire to keep me warm.

Transformed, I rise on golden wings of parchment.

Out of these flames which signify rebirth.

Melting away my sense of disenchantment.

Then, like the mythic phoenix, come to earth.




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