As I lie on the bed made of my lies,
Licking wounds with my sharp tongue,
Holding a shattered body together,
I try to remember all the names who wronged,
Making sure I do not remember them wrong,
Attempting to burn the memories into my mind,
While they continue to devour my soul,
I let the fire consume me to the smithereens,
Not certain whether out of my ashes,
A Pheonix might rise or not,
But whatever rises from my remains,
Will not see the world with same lens,
Of past which made all the mistakes,
Will make sure to treat itself with a hot dish,
Called revenge using its new beginnings.