Renascence
my poem anchored on a page
unworded like an angel
nailed and naked on a cross
some critics wanted it dead
because it is the bastard
child of my elegant brain
some poets unpoemed it with rage
because it mirrors the truth
about their lycanthropy
but it will not be silenced
my poem will feed their hunger
with fire and beautiful pain
till I is risen unscathed
from the depths of oblivion
unworded like an angel
nailed and naked on a cross
some critics wanted it dead
because it is the bastard
child of my elegant brain
some poets unpoemed it with rage
because it mirrors the truth
about their lycanthropy
but it will not be silenced
my poem will feed their hunger
with fire and beautiful pain
till I is risen unscathed
from the depths of oblivion
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