Thoughts of an Eccentric Author

Playing With Fire

When I was young, my mother told me,

To never touch the flame dancing gracefully

The flame that seemed so inviting at first glance,

The one that seemed to put you in a trance

A curious child I was, her warnings I disregarded,

Awed the moment my fingertips and flame had bonded

And then I finally felt it, the sensation that stung,

But not pulling away, I endured as I bit my tongue

Ignoring the sense of pain of my finger,

Here in the flame I continue to linger

Flames that mock me with pain I thirst,

In this game of who would give in first

Illogical, as everyone would like to call it,

Unaware of how I felt when the flame and I fit

Not knowing why I even choose to suffer,

Not knowing why I like playing with fire

***

Got burned while drinking coffee, now my tongue hurts...