It won't stop, It can't stop, the fire that is rushing through it, Burning it's content until nothing but ash might be left, An inferno, a firestorm maybe a rain of embers fueling the misery, When did it start, that conflagration which consumes my being, When will it end, this purgatory inside my chest, producing misery, Without realising it I already gave up all my remaining hope, After all, there is not much left this fire can feast on in laughter, Will I be hollow, will I fade to ash and blown away into a soft breze ? In the end it doesΒ Β not matter, in the end I will not be able to remember, in the end there is nothing for me left to worry about, My central has been turned into a kiln, fostering this flame, It may sting, but I can move on, even if I sink to the bottom, The light in me will finally be able to carry me out one day All I need to do for that event to be triggered, Is to hold on, And hope.