Identity

Fell through a
thousand suns
into an abyss
of grinding
darkness

suppressed and forced
to stand up,
or die

what is this place?
a genesis,
a sprouting
up of
creation

claiming my own power,
my own will,
my own essence
of humming
core
energy

rooted in freedom,
the soul is,
as delicate as a dove
and cannot be
contended with

listen to her,
listen to her,
listen to her

By IrieSide, ©2023


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