People had always assumed that she was fond of fire,
who was to tell them that the inferno is bound to its sire.

The day she was born, she cried until all the candles were lit.
She saw the tiny flames dance as they turned to wisps and ceased to exist.

She was ten when her house turned to ashes and smoke.
She'd spent a year wandering about, looking for a place to call home.

She was sixteen, and no longer fascinated by the blaze.
It had slowly turned her life into a lonely ravenous maze.

She was twenty, when she decided to forever extinguish the flame.
What she did not expect, was that it could actually be tamed.

It dawned upon her, she wasn't the one holding the matchsticks.
But rather, the one who rose yet and again from her own ashes.

Cynical as she was, she was built to resurge and fix her matrix,
She was nothing less than a tenacious phoenix.