I walk on fire, my spirit is the beam.
This confidence that’s on my skin, I can’t take off.
It’s glowing and giving off shimmer, even in the dark.
I didn’t ask to be seen. Only needed to be heard.
My voice is dry, no flicker, no flare.
Domineering my way through the flood of still flesh, just to be the tongue of volume.
Refusing to subscribe to the code of this noxious world.
I am not the cure to worriment,
I AM THE THE RESTORATIVE FOR MY OWN ANIMA.

*© 2014 Rhea Nadia