Phoenix Fire

Thu, 01/29/2015 - 16:35 -- Rye15

Hide the truth written on the face,

And bolt the velvet mask in place,

Lady’s powder to hide the trace,

Of unseemly words said in haste.

 

Satin collars bound with a knot,

A tether that won’t rust or rot, 

Which the male eye eagerly sought,

Possessive gaze for victims caught.

 

Yet I. Yet I no chain will bound

—metal, satin, or otherwise—

A phoenix born from the ashes,

Watch me soar from the ground,

I’ll take no more of your lashes.

 

The color that adorns my face

Won’t be used to hide the traces,

I’ll make the bruises bloody well known

I’m not afraid to stand on my own.

 

Now look at me. What colors do you see?

That bright pink, the neon green?

You’re looking at the real me.

I’m born to wear my phoenix fire,

For me, for me, not to be admired.

 

I’ll take my brushes and paint today’s face,

But know, I’ll never cover up

Any perceived physical disgrace.

And when you slam me to the ground,

You’ll find you can’t douse my fire.

I’m not some whore you can hire.

On me, no tether will be found.

 

I’m free as the phoenix that flies,

From the ground I will always rise,

I dare you, try and smother me.

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