burn.
after so long, the flames are nothing but a blanket enveloping me like sheets, embracing my body. a symbol of rebirth, a bridge to the next stage of my soul.
i watched the heat burn my old life, my old world, watched it destory everything as it created me. almost like a phoenix rising from the ashes of her old life, into a new one, rejuvenated.
it burned my legacy. the pieces of my soul that were left turned to ash over and over again and the only thing left is me but,
will the world ever know how ardently i loved? how intensely i grieved? how courageously i dared to feel in a wold that told me to quiet?
or will all that be erased because of the greed fo men i blindly decided to trust?
will my words echo into eternity, or will they be nothing but ash, no one will ever read my poetry written solely for one person, whether it be me or someone else, and just feel in the whole capacity of someone trapped beind beautiful silk dresses and social graces,or someone who had a mind so loud its contents spilled out like honey after being retained for literally a lifetime.
burn my legacy as it creates me. is this not how my soul shall be remembered by history?
and what about now, will it burn me too?
or will i be the fire?
