It isn't just a flame
Burning within me
(cannot extinguish with your loving words)
It isn't only the rotten smell of overcooked thoughts
(I'd still love to eat their bitterness away)
Although it is...

It is me and my love for thee,
You who makes me a poet,
Who makes me feel enough to feel human
Whether it's sadness, happiness, hatred or jealousy
(oh that silly stinging heart of mine)  

No... It's a contagious forest fire
Combusting my sanity towards those
Near you; Lived and living or loving
(how readily my tears want to burn them)

It's known it's not healthy
But you don't see it's my love anyway
Even when I am angry with you
(nothing that you're responsible for)
And mime my thoughts out to you
So you never understand.

By the time this forest obliterates,
It's all just too late to tell you,
And again,
The ash is buried inside,
Waiting to reignite,
Soon.