Reborn from the ashes

  

So dull and pale

Is my fateful tale,

Filled with agony,

As Grief and Sorrow

Lend their voices

To recite,

A ballad so old,

Long forgotten

And never told.

Death with her arrays

Of brutal fatalities

 Stares at me

With her eyes cold.

She asks me the need

To endure more,

Though I look

So weak and sour.

She asks me why,

I sleep on a bed

Of thorny memories,

Dwell in towers collapsing

And yet, not allow with life,

A parting.

My reply, soulful

Yet convincing:

Yes, I have broken

And so has my heart,

My world, in an instant

Fallen apart.

Yes, I have grown

So sad and bereft,

For nights together,

I haven't slept.

And yet, I wish to play

These futile games

And burn myself

In these fiery flames,

As there is a hope

In which I sink,

Drenched in my own blood,

Which I use as ink.

A hope which beckons me

To hold on

With my life,

So weary and torn,

As I believe in the saying:

"Its from the ashes,

A Phoenix is reborn."