Random Thoughts
There is no greater scar than an easy childhood
In a world ablaze, a tender sprite does mourn,
Where embers lift as dreams forlorn.
A visage marked by life’s harsh scorn,
In eyes, the weight of tempests borne.
Her wings aglow, a fire’s breath,
Yet, cold the air that whispers death.
Beneath the flame, her fragile grace,
Encircles strength, time can’t erase.
For though the fire scars her youth,
In every line lies hidden truth.
What gentle days may never teach,
The trials of fire, boldly reach.
Through tears that cleanse, through pain that molds,
A spirit wiser, far more bold.
And as she rises from the ash,
Her heart alight with each harsh lash.
No gentle hand did carve her path,
But rugged trails and nature’s wrath.
Yet stronger still her wings do beat,
Against a world that’s bittersweet.
The easy paths might never mark,
The deeper cuts in tender bark.
But flames that shape her mournful cries,
Craft wings robust for stormy skies.
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