The kingdom

A wandering soul I am,
seeking for an answer as
I sit alone,
in a garden of deadly thornes

The guards put me in chains of wisdom,
the lover had poison in his kiss
My hands are cold, my lips are pale,
the ground is hard to reach,
the soul can not be tamed

My wings are made of smoke,
my eyes are filled with gold and fire
My freedom is marked by
the roses growing inside my lungs,
building an empire

I dwell with the shadows,
I lure them in my emptiness
and I vow that I will reign
over their kingdom

Magic whispers,
I listen.


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