What I am not
Updated: Mar 28
I am not
Quiet,
trembling
at your anger.
One flame of many to waver in darkness,
edges of orange to flicker
precariously—
a hopeless cause,
an idle being,
a fire
meant to warm.
I am
weaponized,
wax-melting,
wind-defying
wildfire.
I am trees smoking up, leaves
crisping amid a flurry of
red, mangled bark burnt black,
napalm orange mingled with gray,
this destruction
I can cause
for I am not
the flame atop your frosted cake,
not simply a fire to wane with your wish.
Oh, I wish you knew:
Of this scorching willingness
to prove you wrong
for I am so much more than you think.