Burning Phoenix

I wasn’t always the one in the mirror
one time I was someone with gold in his hair,
one time I was someone who smiled for a moment
and once I lived life in a way I could bear.

I wasn’t always the voices I speak with
one time I was young, I was one, I was me,
one time I was young like the sun in the morning
and once like a bird in this life I was free.

I wasn’t always this lingering shadow
one time I was lovely with so much to give,
one time I was lovely with hope for the future
and once I had not yet forgotten to live.

I wasn’t always the weight that contorts me
one time I was thin like what’s left of the shore,
one time I was thin without insecurities
and once I loved both earth and myself to the core.

I wasn’t always the man lost in writing
one time I was simple and that was enough,
one time I was simple and so seemed this world
and once I didn’t know how this life can be tough.

I wasn’t always these eyes never watered
one time I would cry at the littlest of things,
one time I would cry and I’d feel so alive
and once I loved to fly before breaking my wings.

I wasn’t always this never-ending story
one time I was scripted and knew what to say,
one time I was scripted and spoke with a passion
and once I would recite simple words when I’d pray.

I wasn’t always the cry in the winter
one time I was summer and rose with my waves,
one time I was summer with love for the season
and once I feared this life much less so than a grave.

I wasn’t always the phoenix that’s burning
one time I was flying for better or worse,
one time I was flying and burned into nothing
and always I rise be it luck or a curse.

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