If I could just fix all the broken parts,
I could tell you that i'm perfectly fine.
I have looked for replacement minds and hearts,
But none were compatible with whats mine.
For some reason, parts are hard to come by
but i don't remember them being sold.
Do not look at me like that when I cry
and try to catch the screws i can not hold.
Maybe I can go and get an upgrade
to improve my mental integrity.
Hopefully my memory will not fade
due to the severity...

As I sat on the stump, I wondered.
Where did all the animals go?
The scene is somewhat deceiving,
somewhat vague.
There's dust in the air
and fire in the mountains.
I can't see the burning trees,
just the glow from the fire.
This stump was spared
for it had no contact with other trees.
The warmth from the fire
chills my nerves.
Now that I'm surrounded
by the warm dust in the air,
I feel nothing.
No more running in fear
or resting with anxiety.
It's finally time for me to stop.
The dust in the air
is getting very thick.
Breathing somewhat hurts,
but I love it.
This is what it feels like,
realizing that I will not be with her.
The dust in the air
settles to reveal that painful truth.
I let everything burn.

What scent would it have?
Perhaps an old book
with a hint of cut grass.
The calm of the rain
and smoke from a wood stove.
Would it be the color of my soul?
Would my soul even have a color?
A color unimaginable,
and a scent so bizarre?
If my heart was a candle,
I would never let it burn.
Not in fear of a short life.
Not in fear of the unexpected.
Although the smell may be pleasant;
the flame may be beautiful,
someone is going to get burned,
and when it is all said and done,
what is left?
Something unrecognizable?
A remnant of the past?
A memory of what was
or what could have been?
Everyone wishes for more time,
but I wish I could freeze time.
I wish I could hold on to the moments,
the ones that mean the most,
the moments when I felt most human.
If my heart was a candle,
who would lite it?
Who would extinguish it?
Who would gaze at it?
Who would smell it's aroma?
Who would know it exists,
before it burns out?
Who.
If my heart was a candle,
who would I be?