Phoenix
A Poland poem.
In a flash of fire they are gone,
Burned to ashes,
Only to be born again,
And possess those powerful lashes.
Their wings are a concoction,
Of oranges, yellows, and reds.
Almost like they are scooped from,
The enemies that had fled.
Their wings span is the greatest,
Unmatched by any other.
With this they are able,
To travel even further.
Their eyes glisten with unshed tears,
With mythic powers to behold.
Something that can help change,
Fates tough mold.
They are so beautiful,
And such graceful creatures.
I love every single,
One of their features.
They are angels,
In disguise,
With the sky's,
As their place to hide.
They sing their songs of sorrow,
And of happy times,
I am so blessed,
For that power to be mine.
Like a phoenix I can rise,
Higher than the rest.
I can come back twice as strong,
And vanquish the best of the best.
My tears are like health potions,
For those who deserve,
I can save people's lives.
A new life to them I can serve,
Even if I burn up,
Into a bitter flame,
I will be reborn,
To come and reap my fame.
In this form I can save,
Save Liet from dying,
As a phoenix I can once again,
Feel my heart rate flying.
I will always come back,
That is a promise I mean.
I will be a fabulous phoenix,
And defeat my Liet's fiend.
Any requests?
-Soul Spirit-