I was content when the house burned down
    and melted silicon pasted the walls with portraits
    of everything I left pending.

I know fear isn't what we're taught to embrace
    but when I can place it by my bed and sing it a song
    I feel happy.

Two years ago my future was an old rope with coarse twines
protruding from every angle.
Before the scars on my hands formed,
it burned a lucid orange and left no ash.