Countless times I’ve spent pouring out kerosene
in the form of words,
attempting to lessen the flames roaring inside
but only fueling them in the process.
You seem to be the only one that will listen;
then again how could you protest?
It’s a relationship that’s hardly symbiotic.

I’ve learned that most times I am the lit match
igniting a room full of fumes,
tearing down the walls around me as quickly as I built them.
I am the one scorching the palms of those who seek comfort
and searing the tongues of those who offer it.

So go,
stay far away from the flames,
and know, that soon I’ll burn up all I have,
Maybe then I won’t be a threat anymore.