The fire;
I could hear it
pouring from the mouth of a mad woman
I knew the daunting words were merely distortion
I knew they were just a figment
of her overly active imagination.
And yet I was wrong.
The fire;
I could smell it.
I never suspected something so bright
could leave behind something so corrupt.
I knew the fire was too far to hurt me
And yet I was wrong
The fire;
I could taste it.
Cold flavorless soup and stale bread burned my mouth
It gave no nourishment
Never was I replenished of my strength.
But I knew it would make me survive.
And yet I was wrong.
The fire;
I couldn't hear it
The fire made no sound
Rather, it made silence.
It shut the mouths of once socialites.
It cut the tongues of once leaders
I knew it just made peace
And yet I was wrong.
The fire;
I could feel it.
It left no flesh wounds.
It took me from the inside.
It burned me until I wasn't myself
It disintegrated my dreams
I knew that I would be in order when this was over
and yet I was wrong
The fire;
I was in it.
It took what was left of my lifeless form
I was what the mad woman had seen
I was what I had smelled.
The fire was no longer merely inside of me
I was the fire.
