Art and Poetry

My Fire

Image

 

The stinging crack of her flames as she punished what I summoned her to burn

They told me not to play with her but I still do; I never learn

I’m in love….with her power and how she controls my senses

Rendering me mindless, breaking down my fences

I stick her with my scepter to make sure she swallows every piece..

Of the past, my past, so I can be restored to peace

 

She burns so viciously, it’s like watching a psychopath enjoy murder

The way she guts each victim, and they squirm at her feet, while she bellows in laughter

I stand there awed and ecstatic, tasting the sweat dripping from my crown

Hypnotized by her gyration as she dances to her own sound

 

Such a beautiful being she is when she’s under my control

she burns in my desires, and nests in the womb of my soul

She’s a wicked witch to the world, but a fine artist to me

her reputation…..scarred by what history has forced the world to see

 

– G.B

 

 

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