lover of life,
take your gift back.
yesterday i glimpsed a city in flames
of man’s own wretched making,
screams piercing the black haze
and splitting my soul.
giver of fire,
take it back, i beg–
i fear the bloodlust of burning
is too great for our kind
and i do not wish to see
this world set ablaze.
There’s a fire in my throat. I’m choking on all the words I need to say to you but I can’t. I’m burning in a hell of my own making, and I welcome the comfort of the flames.
Anything for a little company, just to feel like I could be saved.
But there is no salvation in scorched skin. There is no redemption in the rage.