trickling flames of the future

glistening satire

sizzling backfire

listening requires

whistling choirs

of what I aspire

and who I admire

crowding in my head

shouting out instead

doubting what I’ve bled

drowning from a tread

but sprouting hope will spread

the clouding slope will shred

blissful and free

whimsical breeze

mystical glee

finical trees

I wish to sit on the throne

to mend my broken bones

I hope one day I’ll be known

and when cynics thrown stones

shield of catharsis has grown

and I allow to be shown

my progression of tone

and my ease in the warzone

I hope day I can see

all the potential in me

abandon the treachery

before the epiphany

I’ve gone into schemes blindly

but my aura gleams widely.