In the eyes of watchers,
I am a spark that burns much too hot
For anyone to even graze
Their unknowing fingers over.
A fireball much too intense,
A light too bright that
Those who are drawn to it
Either fly away when they feel free to
Or let themselves be burned alive.
But to the ones that are in,
Those who find that they're fireproof,
They see the opposite.
They can tell how the fiery girl,
Burning ferociously bright,
Isn't what she gives off.
Instead, it's clear how scared she is:
Of failing her loved ones,
Failing to be something great;
Of being harmed by her thoughts,
Her body,
Her blood,
Her passion,
Her impulses,
And anything else she craves.
Those with open eyes
See how this little girl,
Smaller than she looks,
Is such helpless little thing,
Trying to create warmth and heat,
A fire of epic proportions,
So that she doesn't show the
Shaking, cowering mass of tears,
Of scars and blood and pain,
That would beckon for pity
Based on her figure alone.
Uncaring eyes see a fire,
The opposite see the embers.
And both see a glorious mess
Of an otherwise human girl.
YOU ARE READING
Imagine
PoetryA collection of poems, stemming from a girl being hopelessly in love, the recollection of her past trauma, and the impending unknown that her life will inevitably encounter. And within these moments is a world of her own, tangible and ever-growing...
