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I used to believe I wanted to be like water.
Water that melds into any shape.
Water that is relaxing and peaceful.
Water that, when given enough time, can cut through anything.
But now I realize I want to be like fire.
Fire that gives warmth and comfort.
Fire that burns fast, creating its own path.
Fire that gives light in total darkness,
Giving you an opportunity to find your way out.
Water is used.
Fire is untamable.
Atticus 3d
I’ve seen her once in shattered dreams,
A flicker drowned in silent screams.
She passed me by—untouched, unknown,
Yet carved her name into my bone.

She never looked, she never saw
The way her absence split my jaw.
I stitched her face from scraps of air,
And filled the gaps with quiet prayer.

She was never mine—
Not even close.
But something in her
Felt like home.

I don’t know her,
Not the way I need.
But still she haunts
My every plead.

She walks through me in every crowd,
Too bright, too soft, too far, too loud.
I memorized the way she breathes
Though she’s never even spoken to me.

I’ve built a shrine from passing glances,
A temple forged from phantom chances.
One smile and I’d lose my mind—
But she keeps her gaze,
And leaves me blind.

If she knew—
Would she run?
Would she scream?
Would she come undone?

She isn’t mine.
She never will be.
But still I wait
Where no one sees me.

I never touched her...
But some nights,
I still wake up
smelling her on my hands.
Her lips still burn on my neck.

She breathes through the cracks in me.
She dances in static and screen glow.
She’s never come home—
but I never let her go.
She leaves a trail of broken glass in my head—so I follow it barefoot, like an idiot in love.
Walk of the wanton & the reckless,
Dark hallways down those overgrown aisles.
On either end of the political spectrum,
Where festers extremism.

Isles our youth sail to
Before dry the oceans.
Ideas which give way to ideologies
Which therein invite communities
People become entrenched and/or trapped in.

Ravines they claim valleys,
Molehills they pronounce mountains.
Conspiracy & alternate history,
Anti-democratic & superstitious beliefs.
Issues which have little to no attachment to reality,
Arguments repeated which perpetuate only apathy - discord.

Victims of a Maze of & of not
Of their own invention.
Minotaurs, as "monsters,"
Of & of not of their own creation.
These lost to the "Trails."

Fueled by ignorance,
But consumed by arrogance;
Burned in apathy -
Short-lived confusion.

Stay compassionate,
Remain patient.
Inspiration: 1 Progressive vs 20 Far-Right Conservatives (ft. Mehdi Hasan)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2S-WJN3L5eo
Arii 6d
I am the words they carved
Into my skin,
The amalgamate
Of everything I’ve sinned.

My hands light fire to all that
I can touch,
Burning for a day
Before it turns to dust,

It turns to dust.

“Fight fire with fire,” they spit,
Doesn’t make it not
Burn like acid.

Rain pours down
Onto my skin,
And sure enough, it
Hurts like acid,

Like
Acid.

Didn’t mean a single word that they said,
Doesn’t mean
You didn’t mean
For it to happen

My arms are made of wood,
And yours are steel.
Just because you’re in pain
Doesn’t mean others can’t
Feel,

Everyone still feels.

Everything still
Feels.

“Fight fire with fire,” they spit,
Doesn’t make it not
Burn like acid.

Rain pours down
Onto my skin,
But it doesn’t make it not
Burn

Like

Acid.
Science has done irreversible things to me
Play it slow-
not for romance,
but because the strings are blistered,
and every note splits the sky
with fire.

Stroll through the panic,
it’s routine:
duct tape on the windows,
radio on low,
a list of missing birds
tacked to the wall
like fallen saints.

You said you'd carry me,
but the world’s gone grey,
and the olive tree’s
just smoke now.

There’s no audience left.
Just wind
and its thousand-watt warning.

Still, your spine curves to the rhythm
like a fever dream from Babylon,
hips like warning sirens,
ankles sunk in ash.

I want to understand
what we ruined,
but only at a pace I can stand,
only with eyes closed.

There was a time
we dressed like lovers.
Now it’s mylar blankets
and filtered masks.

We knew the promise;
we broke it anyway,
above it,
beneath it,
inside it.

Someone keeps whispering
about children,
as if hope still blooms
in poisoned soil.

Play it slow,
with bare hands if you must.
But don’t pretend this isn’t a requiem.
Don’t dress it up in velvet or vows.
Just let the music float
and burn,
like everything else.
SoCal climate: golden skies, ash in your lungs, beauty on fire.
Watch my heart burn
All the lies you've thrown at me
Watch my heart burn
All the madness I could never set free

You say you're sorry
But your actions show you're not
Guess I should've never fallen in that trap
But I did only to give you the key
That would open the doors for you to
Watch my heart burn

On second place, a second thought,
I was always stuck in that spot...
As if I ever mattered,
All I had in me has scattered, just for you to
Watch my heart burn..
Sophia Jul 17
Most hate sun burns
the harsh shine of the sun
the tingling pain left behind
aching limbs which are bright red
like the sun's surface itself

I wait for the burn to pass
each hour reapplying aloe vera
to my aching joints
before bed I smother in the stuff
at which point I twist and turn.
Finding an angle in which my scorched skin
does not touch a surface proved to be a difficult task

But on the silver side of things
my kisses from the sun do pass
as does the sun itself.
In a cycle year after year
the sun never ceases to hug me
between it's busy schedule of keeping Earth alive
The most important job of all.
CE Uptain Jul 8
What does it take to keep a good man burning
What does it take to keep a good heart yearning
I want to burn like a winter’s fire deep into the night
I want to be the flame that brings you morning light
I can burn for you, you set my soul on fire
I can burn for you, you are my one desire
A winter’s fire deep into the night
A burning flame until morning light
Burn me with you fire deep into the night
Burn me with your flame until I see morning light
How a bout a hot love poem on a scorching afternoon?
ash Jun 18
i just lit up a matchstick,
like a rock striking the bed of still water,
creating ripples seemingly impossible to control.
the matchstick ignited the moment it made contact
with the red phosphorus on the box's side.
it burnt so bright, so sharp—
i watched flickers of it, the tiny fire—a world of its own.
the flame started blue at the centre,
turned white, orange, red, and a bright yellow.
was this the sunshine's glow?
or the fire that grew from it?

i watched the match start to shrivel up,
the tip that burnt the brightest went down the fastest.
it dropped on my skin,
left a tiny scar in its midst.
and then the stick caught fire—
slowly, gradually, it ate itself up.
the world swallowed itself whole—
the world that the matchstick had created on its own.

such innocence. i wonder if it had life—
oh, but it did have life.
born with it—well, made the way it is supposed to be:
burn, leave a light, which lasts longer.
the originator of the fire, further.
and it dies because of its own existence.
the box that it comes within
carries what brings it to its ending.

and all those, multiple—oh so many,
that come within a box like a well-settled family,
leave one by one, burning themselves apart.
i wonder if the ones remaining behind know their part?

isn't that the irony of human beings as well?
our own worlds, created by us alone—
swallowing us whole,
and often the ones to bring us to ruin: our own.

sometimes i wonder
if i were to kiss the flame,
pull it in my arms, hug it, and set myself on fire—
would our worlds collide?
would i break the loop of life?
would i find the warmth i require,
or would i too turn to ash,
like the matchstick as my friend?

what would it say—
the flame, as it embraces me in return?
would it be like the caress of a mother’s hand,
or the sizzling burn of my father’s?
would this comfort be my destruction?

i wonder if the matchstick ever regretted its purpose.
i'm gonna add more to this, i hope
but isn't this like a theory?
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