The fire hits my back,
Her name is on my tongue.
I clench my teeth and profess her
As being entirely dumb.

She is pathetic, her weakness
Will not trigger anxiety in me;
Let the fire-water touch my back
And I will be set free.

Her words will not cut me,
For she has not cared.
She has turned into a child,
And is never really there.

I am not obliged to fear her,
For she has very little strength;
I have endured this for a
Terribly extended length.

My hands turn off the water,
I step from the shower reborn again;
Although my back is sore
I am no weaker a man.

One day I won't need this,
The revitalizing fire;
But for now it fuels
This everlasting desire.

To be free, to throw off trauma;
To stop fearing the feeble;
To not balk in the face of
Someone who drinks evil.