Scarlet Vs Autumn
There are multiple versions of me living beneath my skin.
One is loud, fierce, unapologetic, a burning force that refuses to be dismissed. The other is quiet, composed, restrained no less powerful, just patient in her defiance. I used to think one was “right” and one was “wrong.” That I had to pick between fire and silence.
But I’ve learned that survival often requires both.
This poem is my conversation between those selves
Scarlet, the flame.
Autumn, the calm.
And Zeal, the one who decides which one to release.
I am Scarlet,
a fire molded through pain.
I burn where shadows linger,
speak loud where voices fade away.
Standing at the edge of adversaries,
I demand the world witness my hurt.
Bold, impulsive, confident —
My crimson never denies confrontation.
I am Autumn,
quiet, reserved,
carrying grief beneath layers of pride.
I let the seasons pass,
moving forward in small, stubborn increments.
Impatience gnaws at me,
anger simmers quietly, smolders low.
I have no need for fire.
I am content with simplicity —
with persistence that whispers: let go.
And I am Zeal,
the balance between blaze and hush.
I watch Scarlet roar,
while Autumn withdraw’.
I remain the barrier,
choosing when to act, when to yield.
To me, defense feel like weakness;
some things must simply slide.
Scarlet strikes,
flames consuming the old,
sparks planting fertile soil.
Autumn steps back,
silent, observing — moving slowly,
impatience hidden under measured calm.
And I, Zeal,
navigate the space between.
I hold firm at my center,
letting both voices exist
without letting either take control.
By day, I wear the sun,
my mask stitched neatly across my face.
Beneath it, Scarlet burns,
Autumn breathes,
and I steer my ship,
captain, crew, and course —
undaunted by the storms
they often stir.
I am Zeal.
On this ground I stand firm:
balanced, whole,
in full control.
If you’ve ever felt like you’re both too much and not enough, this is for you.
Some days we roar. Some days we withhold. Some days we simply try to make it through without breaking into pieces.
Maybe strength isn’t choosing one or the other. Maybe it’s knowing when to burn and when to breathe.
If this piece mirrors a part of you, stay connected. I write for the ones who survived their own storms.
ZealCanvas
About the Creator
Zelia's Canvas
My writing almost always traces the fragile yet unbreakable threads of identity, healing, and resilience. What began as a private refuge, grew into a voice that reaches out to others walking through their own fire.
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