This Time
As the flames lick my body again,
I can feel myself turn into ashes.
Dark grey powder- powder that smells of death.
And this time-I'm no beautiful phoenix.
This time I'm no phoenix that rises from her ashes,
Rises in brilliant hues of red and yellow,
Squealing in delight,
Squealing with victory.
This time, I savour the pain,
The pain that blinds me,
Makes me forget who I am,
Pain that makes me forget the pain within.
This time, I fight fire with fire.
The raging flames within,
Are quenched by the flames outside.
My only hope-someday, neither fire will remain
Copyright © Angie Thomas | Year Posted 2014
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