NEVERMORE
I woke up in the middle of chaos,
not giving me time to recuperate.
Plans to ruin me no matter the cost—
fills me when there's still plenty on my plate.
Thinking that I am now liberated,
the little bird whispered another news.
Every breath I took I was dictated,
weeds are insisting to cage the accused.
The winds are changing, a storm is brewing,
dead shadows unleashed, and hell was opened.
Koalemos they keep on worshiping,
the monstrous clouds are circling once again.
Rested to regain mental fortitude,
nevermore will I return to that place,
and I have done everything that I could.
Now I will choose to stand where I feel safe.
People like us have the right to decide.
If you need the strength, I am your angel,
and you rest under my wings as I fight—
I've won wars before and I'll win again.
YOU ARE READING
CROWN
PoesíaA collection of self-written poetry about the writer's perspective of the world under the guise of the crown.
