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Jan 2016
I get high off of watching preconceived notions of self go up in flames
Off of knowing that my words were the spark
and the breaths between them the wind that fed the fire
Off of watching the phoenix rise from the ashy remnants of it’s former being
Off of my heartbeat echoed in the beating of its wings

Knowing that I wrote the song this new bird sings.
Emily
Written by
Emily
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