Evil Days (Or 'something Wonderful') Poem by Seraphina Wick

Evil days.
Jealous eyes.
The world's alive with hateful spies
Sent to see my spirit dies
Because it might be something... wonderful.

Evil days.
Haunted nights.
I feel naught beyond these blights
Upon my soul, my heart, my mind,
Left by people afraid to find
That I might be something... wonderful.

Evil days.
Wicked dreams.
Tears drench my pillow to the seams
That are frayed from pulling, pounding, and pain
That floods my spirit like poison rain
Falling from the lips of sneering foes
Who fear I might be something... wonderful.

Evil days.
Hopeful dawns.
I will arise to face these pawns
Of malicious Fate, that trembling power
That grows more nervous by the hour,
Realizing that I'll not be drowned,
I'll not be burned, I'll not be bound.
His chains can't hold me, his shackles won't hinder.
And though my heart is fragile as tinder
It has ignited with fires invincible.
One day they'll see I'm something... wonderful.