Remember, once your heart was in flames
for evanescent pain born out of wishes in the night—
Your soul shaking, surging, screaming with rage,
yet that hatred for no one was what kept you alive:
your blood rushing in your veins,
forcing you to move, move, always on the move;
but then you changed the playlists,
played only happier, cheerful tunes,
or songs that had you paralyzed inside in a trance,
lulled you into numbness by serene silence—
and only to try save yourself from tumorous turmoil,
'cause they said they were worried, please turn into Light!
(Haven't they ever heard, "The brightest lights
cast the darkest shadows...")
But now that the rage has been supressed,
you writhe on your bed, unable to get up, depressed
and lethargic, drifting from one day to another
without a clear clue of the tomorrow or farther—
the flame's snuffed out, your spirit stolen
...see, while you thought you were broken
and tried to get fixed, the answer was within all along!
The Frozen Ocean needs a flamethrower to melt,
the Heart to have its flame rekindled,
the Path of Rage to be marched again—
not for self-destruction but re-construction.
Burn in the old ways for the sake of purification,
come, witness a phoenix's resurrection!
But beware not to get scorched by yourself...