Some things roam free in the world, 

Such as horses or birds, or thoughts.

But one thing that keeps you from roaming

Is the stress laid upon your back. 

A stress so broad and all-encompasing

That one no longer can be calm about anything. 

That became the downfall of My Pheonix. 

My Pheonix, the creature of life that burns,

The creature that revives and rebuilds, 

That is my creature made of stress. 

Every cell, every piece of DNA, every moment

Of life is stranded in a place

Where she cannot escape or leave. 

The stress is her fire, the thing that burns her. 

She can't relax anymore due to the weight 

That bares down on every fiber of her soul. 

How she still stands after burning is beyond me. 

I can't understand why she puts herself through this. 

She doesn't deserve to burn. 

As resilient as she is, 

My Pheonix does not 

Deserve the stress

Forced on her

Entire 

Life.