Ingratitude
Added 2017-07-12 00:55:20 +0000 UTC Dying is the Phoenix in the West,
It's flames touching the sore sea,
Light scorching like boiling blood
As the breath coughs life into dark water.
Oh gaze of the Horai,
Oh sour breeze of Chronos,
Oh judgement so merciless of the Mourai
Why do I see myself in such an hypocritical predicament?
In warm Springs long gone,
In love long forsaken,
I once mattered, too.
I was once in the likeness of the Sun,
To the baneful fiery enemy
And to the good a guide.
Once, my wings shielded the innocent
And burned away the walking dead.
And how is this rewarded?
Why, shielding is met with disdain,
And defense with derision,
Protection bearing so bright a hatred
And kindness a damp shunning, of course.
Some say it's darkness,
The monster fallacies
(So is defending justice monstrous now?),
Others bring pettiness aboard
(And constant shunning and vicious attacks are not petty now?),
Others are wiser,
And bring nothing beyond pain.
It is tiring,
It is tiring and unjust,
It is tiring and unjust and ungrateful.
So comes along a Phoenix,
Blessings of not just light,
But bright justice too,
And shunning and murder is your reward?
Reborn is the Phoenix in the East,
It's flames burning the sore flesh,
The light boiling crimson water
As life coughs it's rotten breath.
All baneful must die,
Not the least I and you,
In our pained breaths.
