Repeating words,
Stanzas become remade,
Over and over,
Read the words,
It's exhausting,
The clock as it's ticking,
I want to write well,
I want to write meaning,
But some things like these,
Is just simply boredom.

I have talent, I suppose
But what I truly fear is
not r
        e
          aching
f  a  r
enough.

Unbecome everyone’s dreams
Unbecome everyone’s scars
Unbecome everything fake
To be what you truly are.

Born from ashes,
I am anew,
With no more clashes,
To the sorrow, adieu.

Red is the fire,
Which is my blood,
The flames of heart aspire,
To end this tragic flood.

Yellow is joy,
Rushing through my veins,
For a little flower whose blooming I enjoy,
Freed of all chains.

On passions wings,
I will take a flight,
And sing a song to everlasting springs,
There shall be no more fright.

Reflected in the mirror,
Eternal flame of the soul is what I desire,
It is indeed clearer,
The wish to be forever consumed in this fire.