The Boy Who Was A Bonfire

Behold the ashen skeleton
Of the boy whose breath is sparks
Whose racing blood screams bright with fire
At each explosive beat of the heart.

Ash-tipped matches sit cold round the wick
Showing a fire’s love of light
And the scattered remains of my wooden bones
Show a persistence to reignite.

The scraping flint of force-fire thought
Keeps alight my kindling body
And keeps alight the fire’s blazing tribute
To the arsonist who made me.

These shooting sparks in my firecracker mind
Burn bright against the dark
Burn beauty into cold cloud eyes
And burn onto me their mark.

Still, my crackling logs of grey matter
In the burning bonfire brain
Fuel the ferocious heat inside me
Rising again, again, again!

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