Poetry

Rising

Wounded

I am wounded.

Pierced by words

That impale, sharp as glass.

Fractured

My confidence is factured.

Struck by phrases

That strike, hard as a hammer

Rise.

I will rise.

A Phoenix

Still smoldering and covered

In my own ashes of defeat

I will

Rise.

©KaylaAnnAuthor

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35 thoughts on “Rising”

      1. Yes, the phoenix will always come up from the ashes! But I love how you point out how there are still obstacles in the way of being reborn as you refer to as, “ashes.” 🙂 But the rebirth is then even more magical!

        Liked by 1 person

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