| Ten years, twenty-seven dresses
|
| Calico Kaleidoscope
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| Scraps of her story sewn together
|
| Grandma made that suit of armor and I laid it on my bed
|
| Just a quilt that no one noticed but I did
|
| Just a memory, a piece of me that meant everything
|
| Just things
|
| When does a phoenix learn how to fly
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| Do I get my wings when I stop asking why
|
| How do I start moving on and moving past
|
| Stop holding on, looking back
|
| When God’s hellbent on making me a fighter
|
| Forged in the fire
|
| Three days, seven pairs of hands
|
| It took searching for something more for me to understand
|
| That anything and everything, even the kitchen sink
|
| Just things
|
| When does a phoenix learn how to fly
|
| Do I get my wings when I stop asking why
|
| How do I start moving on and moving past
|
| Stop holding on, looking back
|
| When God’s hellbent on making me a fighter
|
| Forged in the fire
|
| Forged in the fire
|
| Am I glass or am I iron
|
| Will I last or will I tire
|
| Can broken be beautiful again
|
| Am I glass or am I iron
|
| Will I shatter or rise higher
|
| From the ashes I’ve been buried in
|
| When does a phoenix learn how to fly
|
| Do I get my wings when I stop asking why
|
| How do I start moving on, moving past
|
| Stop holding on and looking back
|
| When God’s hellbent on making me a fighter
|
| Forged in the fire
|
| Forged in the fire
|
| New house, still smells like smoke
|
| A clean slate and stories just waiting to be told |