Hold my hand. Confronting can be difficult when I’ve been painting pretty pictures over what really exists. Give me a minute, I can do it, I have to. Just give me a minute. I know I shouldn’t hold on to what isn’t but it’s prettier than what is. Hold my hand!
I know I can use my lungs again.
The life support system has just crashed & burned again.
I didn’t think I’d have to feel the pain once more,
Of having to decide to breath again or not feel again, oh, it’s so sore!

I made it pretty,
I made it bright,
I was witty,
It was right.

Oh Lord, hold my hand.
I think I just died again, tonight.
My phoenix is rising,
Out of the ashes I’m taking flight.

Don’t touch me, my wings burn.
Don’t touch me, my mind has just been reborn.
There was a time, when I was sure I would never stop breathing again.
Yet today, I find myself growing new skin.

And so as what I was dies,
See what I am rise.
As my flesh takes on new colour, bright, vibrant;
See my new glowing body walk off, beautiful, more resistant.

I am, I will always be, the phoenix who from the ashes rises, more beautiful, more powerful than before.

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