A poem can find a dark soul at night
The rebirth I had after I sat with my plight
The demons I held onto and encompassed me with their wings
Spoke of wild, dark, and wicked things.
And I felt warm there
I felt raw
Like an ice sculpture exposed to the sun.
Slowly waiting to thaw.
Or a cocoon forgotten in winter,
Made it to spring
I climbed out of my cocoon when I put down that drink.
I spread my wings when I had enough,
Enough of men who used me to feel tough.
And I flew high above the clouds
Right before my death I looked right into my shadow.
And she said, “I’ll see you again”
“You’ve won this fight, but not the battle”
— The End —