To the 'Phoenix', as they would always compare.
But life's not us; burning out of it,
And then coming out stronger.
It is more along the lines of-
Snakes- removing layers after layers;
Of death from us.
And a new fresh slate to engrave
Other dirty notches
We would possibly take to grave.
The death and The dirt.
A combo so unusual-
But so widely used to think on.
Death is, unconquerable.
So they say, unless when it faces the defeat
And mixes right in the dirt.
Who is more overpowering then?
They ask, isn't it the last one standing?
So even though I am,'The dirt'
Plain and useless to you.
Just like the one under your shoe?
You'd do right to remember,
I am the last one standing.
Because when you are gone,
And to the point of no return
I'd still be here,
Winning and conquering.
And no one would learn to remember,
Remember the dirty secret I shred;
This summer off my body
Of your death,
Mixing with me.
YOU ARE READING
Twenty Two!
PuisiA collection of light and dark themed self musings that won't dissapoint you. Enjoy!
