Phoenix
            
            My mess, my tangled mesh, I stir out
I see flashes; and sparks sometimes,
Enough for a lifetime full of wars.
Ash-risen, my head held high 
Myself again: 'better burns and bruises'
I'm alive when my soul is on fire!
Wings feathered away to dreams of hopes, 
Later that day, I'd become a bird
All I dreamt of being, of becoming
A phoenix, for my self-recreation...
            2019-01-24 08:49:21
            
            
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