called me the walking dead/ I had no clue what it meant but my soul was spent/ used to pay the expense of fragile egos/ my spirit was their trampoline/ my esteem was their throne/ I would let them feast at the table of my freedom/ I remained enslaved/ unpaid/I paid with my life/but with my life I knew death/buried alive/ so I learned how to hold my breath/until my exhalation became pyrotechnic/ this old skin shed like snakes engulfed in flames from the belief that trouble don't last always/ from the ashes I needed to blaze my last days where scavengers fed on my flesh/and each time they celebrated what they assumed was my last/the past is where they lay in desolate coffins/the ghost of depression past doesn't get to haunt me
nikki_phressh
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Rebirth
CATEGORY
life
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COMMENTS
DallasCowgirl says: Yesssss! This is indeed that poetic work! I truly enjoyed this, sis! Very well crafted. :) |
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Nikki_phressh says: Thank you so much for the love Sis! |
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Charles2 says: great work. rising from the ashes of the past. sure beats getting stuck in it. happy for you, been there |
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love_supreme says: Wow, this is nice. |
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