i burn in fires
but flames do not scorch my bones.
i walk over the ashes---quietly, invisibly.
i am not the type people would look at and say,
          juvenile delinquent.
          that’s a bad, tough girl.
          there’s a girl with grit in her mouth and a tongue coated in ash.
they see quiet and good; i wear glasses.
it is two-thirty
the darkness outside makes me itch.
earth blisters under bare feet
face wholesome and clean
no char marks on my cheeks
lungs burned to the third degree
and i cannot stop. do you not see the pyre i’ve lit?
go away before i brand you too.
kick down the doors on your way out; they're crumbling anyhow.