There Comes a Tale

From the flames of heaven was born a demon,

From the ashes of earth, a phoenix arose.
All would hail the former, it would seem, and
The phoenix, not a person chose.

A struggle a day, a lifetime spent
Looking for something and losing yourself.
The demon engulfed everyone in its flames
And before nighttime, quietly fell.

The phoenix flew and sometimes staggered.
Not a person there was, to help it on its way.
'Life is not easy,' the phoenix figured,
'Sometimes it's cold and lonely at night,
Sometimes its's unforgiving during the day.'

It matters not from whence you came but
What you chose to make of it.
The demon spoiled for choice, it was,
Chose to fall, wrongly, and fell to death.

The phoenix took flight.
Not one, but hundred shackles held it back,
It broke free.
It chose to fly, and die it may have, but
It chose to live again, it chose to see.

The demon, blinded by love, it was,
That people every day showered it with.
The demon never learnt to value.
The demon died, full of hate.

The phoenix never learnt to love,
Until love came and found it.
The phoenix looked for happiness but
Happiness had it surrounded.

It matters not from whence you came but
What you chose to make of it.
Choose not a life of love and remorse,
Choose death with me instead.

And like a phoenix bird, you will be
Reborn again the next day.
At least you will have the satisfaction of knowing
That when it came to you, you chose the right way.