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The creative sting seems to have lost,
I am digging myself into things blain,
But there you come, like a roar of fire,
and i am left high and dry.
While all slumber into sleep deep,
you snatch me away from here.
While being carried away,
I know i will be crash landing again.
The unceasing streak lets me fly away with you,
for solace which I rarely expect to find.
The spell cast in the still air of this midnight glow,
forces me to be the phoenix.
In morning I will rise from the ashes,
The ashes of my burnt-out solitude,
Only to find myself on the same stand,
awaiting to burn over again.