Phoenix

The night was hollow, the stars hung low,

I shut my eyes, let nothing grow.

The air was thick with blood and stone,

And darkness crowned me as its own.

They crept in close, those I once held dear,

Whispered softly, “The end is near.”

Their grins were cracked like rotting lace,

With hunger stitched across each face.

They crawled like leeches veiled in light,

And drained my blood beneath the night.

Each touch a theft, each word a knife,

They drank my strength, they drained my life.

No trumpets blared, no gates swung wide,

No angels came to claim my side.

Just silence like a velvet shroud,

Where nothing weeps and none are proud.

But far beneath that muted grave,

Where none forgive and none behave,

A single ember stirred in spite,

And burst the dark with sovereign light.

I rose not clean, nor soft, nor pure,

But born of fire, wrath made sure.

The ash ignited at my will,

And all who watched grew silent, still.

The vampires shrieked, their feast undone,

I faced them burning, one by one.

Their grins collapsed, their faces split,

The venom turned on those who bit.

The filth they fed me, year by year,

Now chars their tongues with molten fear.

Within the blaze, I made my throne,

With shattered bones and flame alone.

Those who seek harm shall come undone,

For I am the fire, I am the sun.

I rise through ash when hope is gone,

The sovereign flame, the crimson dawn.