Like A Moth To A Flame...

How many more desires must I say "No" to?

Will there come a time I can say "Yes" to something other than the weight of this cross?

How much longer must I wait for this fire to be extinguished?...

as if it still can—

The smoke from my mouth has come to settle on this page‐

traveling the burial grounds of what used to be...

the embers of my fallen interests continue to glow,

and their ghosts continue to set this path a blaze—

Will this vessel ever see its dreams realized?

Will time ever tell?...

or will this flame of dissatisfaction consume me before it has the chance‐

Shall I just rip my heart from my chest?...

to watch it burn before my own eyes‐

but without much more blood to bleed, or burn...

how much longer, will these eyes remain open?...

before closing to never see again—

How much heavier will this cross become?...

Desires that I must rule over have seared my skin‐

In terms of this grave before me,

It will be I, or them—

Every "Yes" that I must say "No" to...

and every "No" that I must say "Yes" to‐

have been added up as scorch marks,

tallied across a broken vessel...

So, will I die to myself or from myself?

Shall I return my heart to its place inside me?...

that the fumes of disappointment may be seen with a glance into my eyes‐

or shall I drop it at my feet and let myself be iced over—

Only time can tell...

what will come to be, at these crossroads I've come to‐

Fire?... or Ice?...

because being Lukewarm will never be a possibility—

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