He wasn't always this way
A life  of smoke and ash.
He's A burned house
Only ash remains.


" He wasn't always this way"
I declare.
Not knowing his past.
But knowing no one starts like ashes.

No one starts like the ruins of his old home
Which was burned down
While his mother was still inside
No one starts like his mother ended.

He wasn't always this way.
Now he lives in ashes.
He lives for smolder. Lives for smoke.
Lives for ashes.

With every cigarette he has
Every drug he sells.
He lives in smoke.
Smoke and cinder.
His teenage lungs up in smoke.
His brain fiery addicted.

He said he didn't care.
A life in smoke.
A young life... tossed before the flames
Consumed

They lick up his soul
Relieved
He is.

Cindering, smoking
Smoldering.

Burned.


Cauterize the wound.
Obtain life again from the ashes
That were the death of you and your mother.
Like a Phoenix be reborn from the rubble
Smoldering and roaring
You are a beautiful flame.

Obtain beautiful flame.
Not searing flame
So I then I won't have to say
He wasn't always this way.