The Phoenix

The phoenix sleeps in her own ashes,

she doesn’t remember her last rebirth,

it’s the world who tells her when she died,

that she responds a coy smirk,

it’s a folly of humans that we see,

to point out the past of those living,

for a creature, whose present is so beautiful,

we always find a way to persuade her

she is eternally ill-fated.

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