Phoenix

Puffin’ the hand-rolled cigarettes,
Sippin’ on quality scotch,
The smoke filled room and the rainbows in her soul,
3:15 on her broken watch,
She was not the same girl,
The one who fled home,
When she was ordinary and eighteen,
She was not afraid to fall anymore,
There wasn’t much left to be seen,
She was fire and chaos intertwined in harmony,
So she flipped through the pages of a magazine,
The place to which she belonged in all her entirety,
In those pages, she was alive,
Clothed in magic, flaws and time,
While she had survived the war many times over,
The world is now reduced to the wraith of her madness,
Where she had her place in the sun,
The stars got tangled in her hair,
And the moonlight sparkled in her eyes,
The curve of her lips so much like a galaxy’s edge,
She was a broken beautiful universe all in her bruised self.

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Embrace your brokenness for that is what makes you an epitome of beauty and a phenomenon of magic – be fearlessly and unapologetically you.

 


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