ꨄ 𝙻𝚒𝚏𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙳𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑ꨄ

Traitor

Whatever it was that I had sought for,
now wasted away into nothing but ashes-
for I have burnt all there was to the embers-
the sparks that used to burn for the tears of
Envy I spilled had long quenched my own sparks- 

sparks that I longed to have burst into flames,

yet my own tears and irony robbed them of every chance.
For what was I without the suffocation of tears?
So what was I without the constant drown of my own tears?
The tears that tore apart the embers of my own blood,
traitor of my own heart,
for fear be my constant ruler, the poison of my life;
the fabricant of the cycle I carved myself in-
to forever bind myself with envy, hatred, wrath,
for fear be the hands that muffles my want,
the tears that quenched the bursts of my flame.

Yet with fear's embroidered cloak of Envy that reeks of my own scent,
what else could I have done to prevent it?