He rose from the gravel the concrete etched out his veins,
pain carved his ego,then pressure compressed his heart to beat again,
rain filled up his organs expanding life from within,
his brain sculpted by sound waves as vibrations start to ascend.
Then spirit enters the body like a breath, caught in the wind.
His eyes glazed with emotions his pupils dark as his skin.
He rose, through adverse aggression divine defines his thorns.
Who knew, that struggle was natures way of infusing strength.
His petals blossoms like open arms. Armed with a gentleness,
innocence in a sense, benevolent features turns to shadows.
Pricks split adults a boast to insight that there's
beauty in the pain, there's beauty in the vain.
He rose, with the power of Will the strength to carry on,
was spawned to destroy and rebuild, a rebel with a cause,
born on a day of peace. His name means warrior,
his art is to be.Surrounded by love enough for the world to see.
Their dreams see their dreams, sow and plant their seeds.
Where nature tends to nurture, inertia covenants in the womb.
What do you want to be my son? Among the heroes, just like you
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