Indulging on the strands of
my reflection regurgitated
in the likeness of your
                                hollowness.

I slumber like the dead.

Awoken my petals rejuvenated,
then you pick them singularly
corroding my strength to a
                                              stem.

I slumber like the dead.

My wings open as you pluck
my flight of freedom, grounding
me to the realization I'm
                                           forsaken.

I slumber like the dead,
but I'm always reborn.

My demons try to pick
apart my inner beauty.

My demons try to suffocate
my outward reflection of self.

But as long as I slumber, I rise
like a new sunrise. I may set,
but each days anew, and I will
never slumber to my demons.