I see streams of light
A fire burning bright
In my heart I feel
That its time to heal
Like dust of gold
In molten fire
I am refined with a new desire
Stand up, be bold
Yes the process is painful
You get torn, battered and bruised
Yes the process takes time
You learn grit, patience and perseverance
No longer conformed
No longer confined
By the hypocrisy
Of the crowds
YOU ARE READING
Chronicles Of Midnight
PoetryComposed of poetry and ideas and scenes from short stories that I probably wont write. A bunch of thoughts that might or might not make sense. #unorganized It gets better the further you read, so just keep reading or skip a few. Me.
