View From My Window

Phoenix

I do not want to remember what it’s like to
be a boiled egg.
The temperature is too hot,
it burns the flesh.
My tears weep blood;
I cannot shake the Devil’s hand.

Here I rise in Destiny, here I fall;
here I rise again.
I listen to too much
classical music; it sings in my soul.
My beak is made of
solid gold.

The only thing I have to
eat is my tears.