Guinevere Stone

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Birds That Pray

Born into a burnt garden,
Forced to grow up from the soot
From the ashes,
From the plains devoid of love.

Brutality doesn’t make a man,
Abuse doesn’t make a father.

I was the caged bird,
I waited until he used all his venom,
All his fire,
Until he completely burned me.
His home; my pyre.

Fooled was he by my submission,
By my weakness.

For when I rose again,
I rose a phoenix.
The ashes that once suppressed me
Became my strength.
The soot became my
War paint.

And when I rose,
I could see how weak you are.

I melted the cage you set upon me
I flew away from your chains.
I cut into my veins, and my blood was no longer your blood.

You have no hold of me now Michael.
I am a phoenix, you are a Harpy,
And when you burn, you won’t rise again.
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