"careful now, she's mad.
she has ice in her veins."
no, i was burning.
and i blinded myself with it.
"fine, be a fire.
but not too bright."
no, i had a story to tell.
and i would be the light it needed.
but there is no control in the fire,
not when the forest is dead and dry.
catch aflame,
and the people will come
to see you end.
call for help,
and they will scatter,
and no hand will reach out to help.
how did the ones before me bend
and break
and burn
but never make a sound?
was it worth it?
to be left with nothing but endless i-told-you-so's?
i bend
and break
and burn.
it was pain,
but it was magic.
the ones before me knew,
and now so do i.
About the Creator
Alivia Varvel
time is the most precious commodity
https://www.aliviavarvel.com/
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Comments (3)
Love this. You can use the fire in any way you want. Such a freeing poem.
This reminds me of my favorite line from the song "Your ex lover is dead." The line is "when there's nothing left to burn, you have to set yourself on fire."
Oh this is incredible and relatable is think to many people. Well wrought