A fragile fire flickers
In my breast, locked
Behind bars of pasty bone.
The cracked, red coals sputter
And the flames lick lower,
As they spit
Steam and smoke.
A fragile fire flickers
In my breast, locked
Behind bars of pasty bone.
The cracked, red coals sputter
And the flames lick lower,
As they spit
Steam and smoke.
He Who Wanders 