Heat

This heat is just too much for me.

I am hot with passion:

With fierce anger.

With profound attraction.

With pulsating energy.

Not even the frigid sky and frosted trees can oppose my burning.

Not even the frozen car

Can withstand my passionate electricity.

I can’t contain my pent-up emotions any longer.

 

My friends never listen to me.

Too busy with their own

Dramatic drama,

Love lives,

Can’t seem to let go of

Their past wounds.

Despair, despondency, death.

Despair, despondency, death.

This is all that is spewed onto me.

And yet they don’t realize

That I bear it patiently,

Or they take it for granted

That I even listen to their idiotic crap at all.

One needs to keep an “open mind”, they say,

But the sad ironic truth is

They don’t keep an open mind themselves.

Eternally condescending,

They argue away my opinions

And shift the focus back onto themselves.

They always take,

And never give.

They never listen to me.

 

And it gets me emotionally exhausted, I who give empathy to them.

Always believing themselves to be in the right

And I, the stupid one, in the wrong.

Is hope dead to you, I ask?

Has the spark really gone away?

Has the flame died?

Is all that is left

Sadness, pain, ashes?

Or is it all an act,

A melodrama in the twisted opera

Of your mind, scarred forever from the pain?

I swear, your infinite lunacy

Will drag me to the depths of insanity as well.

And I will burn

In your created hell.

I want to be a phoenix,

That phantasm of a firebird that flies forth

Out of its suicidal ashes, away into the sky.

And away from you

And your endless spew.

 

 

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