Break my wings and I shall
rise like a phoenix,
soul the flight of tender freedom,
and wings just a ruse of belief,
so misguided your self-esteem,
lost to wants of would be control
and lording it over all you pursue.
Broken your mind to think such things,
control your tempest without restraint,
yet open your tomb of torment,
vilification a pleasured ache,
as you thrice chose the blade of hurt,
to define your life inert.
And I the wounds of your severity,
blame your precious commodity,
and breaking me your whims complete,
without a reason, your acts an oddity,
just to vent your displeasure
not having the life you think deserved.
Unscathed I am, and broken not,
stepping aside from your delusional plots,
as I cannot fathom your plight,
lost alone by candlelight,
no room to illuminate the truth,
just your artifice of failing self.
And having risen from the ashes,
I see so clearly your desperate rash response,
meaningless and petty your disdain,
built upon the lies you’ve sponsored,
and the displacement you purge,
in blaming everyone for your absurd ineptitude.
I am no longer the flesh of your wounds desired,
when even flesh sees not the affront,
just an annoying mosquito buzz,
so ineffectual there is no brunt,
just a wasted vile thought
that sees not what it aught, in attack.
So, maligned I may be,
but free from your special charms,
and flight is mine regardless of you,
as your shadow is without substance,
no words spoken true,
just the echo of what once you were.
Tony DeLorger © 2017
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