"It was a pleasure to burn."

Those were the words

that I begged for my soul

For my heart

My bones

My lips to utter truly,

Truly.

That fire,

Was killed by a dying mother, 

A dead dear brother.

Instead of zealous insides

--A contained, beautiful flame--

I exist in the chaos of burning outsides. 

My Father's fire is steady.

His flame is perfect,

And lovely;

Burning. 

Beautifully.

My inferno lingers,

But His glow soothes the burns.

I'd rather die,

Than be in the shadow of His light.

So here I am.

Burning.