Still, I rise from the ashes
And pieces unknown.
Moments and memories,
Dreams and mourns.
Still, I rise like a plant
That first pushes away the dirt
Growing towards the sun
In joy and mirth.
And for the grass to seem greener,
It has to constantly rain.
And while it may seem duller,
It washes away my pain.
And I’ll rise from my remains
Like a Phoenix from its ashes,
A winner born out of
Broken dreams, hopes, and wishes.

shevaun stonem