I am a fire. I burn through the space and time Around me. Only To watch roses rise, Like colored smoke, from smoldering Ashes to spring Into full bloom . For what other use Could there be for my high energy But to blaze through the world And fade like fire? To dissapate And leave roses in my wake. . I've written, Composed, And painted Into immortality My love For thee . But without fuel how could I burn hot enough?
I hardly ever write a poem a poem that's focused more on myself. This is an attempt at that.