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A flower’s beauty,
may blossom remarkably,
in harsh conditions;
plugging the funnel: nurture,
in light of one’s true nature.
Endless abundance,
you are, a hidden treasure;
infused in magicks,
synchronized with Mother Moon,
divine feminine of life.
My personified shadow,
I call her Renée.
She experienced the malevolency
bestowed upon me
and released through writing poetry.
My nightly tears on the page,
bled crimson,
in unison, she and me.

She, my personal protector;
taught me the freedom,
within expression,
feeling fearless among oppression,
my pages now read dry.
With anxiety and pain held at bay,
I am to be thankful,
to the personified shadow,
I call Renée.
Dark is to light, as black to white.
When we write, from what place?

I wrote,
dwelling there,
amongst the shadows,
without face; leeching for love,
my cup empty,
heart scattered into pieces.

I write,
divinely guided;
exploring unclimbed mountains,
where weakness and courage elope,
advancing towards freedom,
My cup fills,
healing below the glimmers of hope.

I accept,
my world of black,
as it mends into white,
for I know, what is in the dark,
is to rise to meet light.
Let me tell you
Something about me,
I view everything as energy.
***, gender, ethnicity,
I cannot see.

That is simply me.
He
paints my wings black,
in forbidden pleasures.

When his horns run along,
my fantasies are made real.

Piercing my skin,
he penetrates purity.
Inside of me melts down,
my body ignites,
cremated and relieved,
to the death of an angel.
I am your fugitive,
Running to escape my fate.
Underneath the moonlight, I feel safe;
Though, I am still the fool.
My innocence wishes to survive your arrows,  centaur; you,
a master of archery.
You haven’t missed one shot on me,
Aimed at my heart, I do not fall.
Aimed at my heart, I do not falter.
Underneath the stars, I feel safe.

I am your fugitive,
Running to escape my mistakes.
Underneath the skies, I have misplaced my loyalty; as such does, the fool.
My heart wishes to love one,
banded with honesty.
That is not you, master of archery.
Aimed at my head, I still think.
Aimed at my head, I still wander;
Away to where I may feel safe.
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