Digital drawing · poetry

Is that fire from within . . .

when a trail of my own wasn’t even there.

For that bird may come down,

and let it knock at my feet.

Why did it say,

I am you,

you are not me,

we are meant to be,

and I can not. .

and I will not. .

and I am not.

The one who won’t save but,

You will be.

You are mortal,

I am immortal.

๐ŸŒ๐ŸŒ๐Ÿ’€๐Ÿ†™โ˜๐Ÿ†•๐Ÿ˜›

ยฉ XENOphagz

ยฎXenoGrapx 2019

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