Wings of fire
on Poetry
Countless feathers shredded and spread,
And wants to prick me on my way,
Home is still too far to stop,
The bruises that I face in my mind.
I didn’t even know,
What I did to them,
To receive such hatred,
I ask to my younger self.
Then moonlights it all for me,
And I find me with wings of fire,
To burn those feathers and hatred,
Into ashes of mere desire.
After all these years,
They ask me why I’m so cold,
They better know of all those fights,
When they left me on my own.
So I, alone, am the first to triumph,
And I’m not ready to fall to their level of low stakes.
When they shall shred their wings in fire,
I will soar high in the sky with wings of fire.