trickling flames of the future

glistening satire
sizzling backfire
listening requires
whistling choirs
of what I aspire
and who I admire

crowding in my head
shouting out instead
doubting what I’ve bled
drowning from a tread
but sprouting hope will spread
the clouding slope will shred

blissful and free
whimsical breeze
mystical glee
finical trees

I wish to sit on the throne
to mend my broken bones
I hope one day I’ll be known
and when cynics thrown stones
shield of catharsis has grown
and I allow to be shown
my progression of tone
and my ease in the warzone

I hope day I can see
all the potential in me
abandon the treachery
before the epiphany
I’ve gone into schemes blindly
but my aura gleams widely.