Fear not my flames- once you too had a fire in the belly
Whatever we've grown to be, weren't we all children, originally?
I cannot be who you want me to be- for I was born to be a King
You know not who I am , but do you hear me complaining?
Sorry for the burns I gave you in playful jest-
No apologies for the ones I gave to make a conquest.
Sometimes my wings fail to carry me, and sometimes they soar.
Every gust of wind opens another door.
There are parts of me strewn along this path
What you face now, is the aftermath.
Pleasant, eccentric, genius, weird - I've been called all sort of things
But who would you be, with a burning soul and fragile wings?
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2 comments:
And as the words sink in, i realize why you wanted to place every single word in every single line, at the place that it deserved, and no where else. I'd say Justice is done. Brilliant.
*bow*
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