~Poems~

Fires And Their Ashes

I look around.

Seeing colours, seeing smiles, seeing warmth but it's not from the sun.

I see people experience stuff.

They’re all having the time of their life.

They have all been hurt, but that’s them knowing that they’re alive.

They rise up from the ashes all the different fires has left them with.

When they rise up, they feel stronger.

They fall and fall, but continue on.

They cry and cry, but that just makes them human.

At the end of their days, they are alive.

The fire that burnt it all to ashes, is just a reminder to not leave a burning candle alone.

Then I look at myself.

I'm so cold.

Never would I find myself doing the stupidity of leaving a burning candle.

Never would I find myself cry.

I don't fall.

But I don't rise.

All along, I’m still sitting in the ashes.

I'm not human enough.

I'm too cold.

Why?

Because of the simple reason that I was born with it.

I look at my own world.

It's so grey and filled with silence.

Maybe I don't experience the fire they all go through sometimes.

But I also don't experience the joyful feeling of rise from its ashes.

In a way, they're wiser than me.

Even though I keep checking the candle before leaving...