Locke1

My fiery death stays clear in my mind,

With the previous ones before it,

I lay curled up in this new shell,

The hundred years, waiting,

Soon the time will come,

And freedom would once again be mine.

The event at last comes once more,

With a flash of light, a loud crack,

I burst from my prison,

Flames lick my feathers,

But I do not fear,

The heat gives me my freedom.