There's a slow burn.
It starts off as an ember.
First it keeps you warm,
And it's a fond thing to remember.
But it grows.
The air heats and expands
Inside your chest,
And starts to ache, and shake your hands.
Then it slides into your gut,
The thing that slowly burns,
And it writhes around inside you.
Oh it churns.
And at times it jumps.
When you least expect, it shifts.
It slithers toward your throat
And it finds your jaw, and lifts.
There's a thing that burns, so long and slow,
And hides the world in smoke,
And if you wait too long, it starts to sting
And choke.
So at times, you keep it secret.
Oh you hide it, this you learn
With the fear that if you free it
It will twist, and break, and burn.