Digital drawing · poetry

Pho-m 129!

How can the fires of hope,

be my rope out of my dank and decrepit mind.

How can a fire drake singe at my ears,

so the tailbone of my third eye can be awakened.

Upon the waters of a volcano I will stand before,

See to it I welcome not my death,

not anything at all.

To know that all fire loves to burn.

💥🐲🎭🐲💥

©oam

®artsydhude 07-18

™XENOphagz

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