Some find their hearts in fire,
I have no such desire.
Their eyes watch the flickering flame,
In their metaphors they are burning,
Consuming, shining, roaring.
They are suns in human skin,
Passionate and revolutionary,
All their battles they win.
Oh, how it must hurt,
Living with fire inside you,
Flames licking your bones,
Leaving them scorched black.
Lungs and heart burnt.
They push onward,
Forward,
To an end they can't see,
Smoke filling their body.
They are the rebels,
The revolutionaries,
The underdogs.
But they know no touch,
No soothing hand,
All who hope to hold them,
Burn up in their embrace.
I won't try,
Let me step aside,
I will not fight you,
Indeed, I have no desire,
To become fodder for your growing fire.
