I dance rings of fire
I am a horrendous liar
I sit silently on my own pyre
I made with my own to hands to a choir
Singing songs of my sinning and they ever tire

I burn the grass below my feet
I am strapped steadily to the seat
The lines are chaotic and precariously neat
Every line in the book are folded into a little pleat
I hold the key then I carelessly give it to everyone I meet

I am my own critic
I am my own faulty medic
I am the sweet burned in acidic
I am a selfish cry from the idiotic
I am the virtue in the word patriotic

I write poetry and pretend you will read it
Because I can't stand to leave my thoughts private
In reality I am just a girl with words to convince
That work on everyone but myself
Hoping this time they won't be pathetic