The flame is miniscule and intermittent, I don't do anything to stop its growth; the warmth grants me comfort.
Each night I stoke the flames, allowing it to continue burning my skin ever so slightly.
The intensity of the flame on my skin grants me temporary relief of sorts,
bewildered by the temptation and comfort it presents me.
I'll feed the flame, just once.

The flame has grown to a substantial size, the burn and pleasure it grants along with it.
I must feed it, it is my only friend.
I feel reliant on it, for it is my only method of escapism and trumps all else.
Oh the burn, the pain is so much worse; my flesh seared and mind charred.
I must stop before there is no stopping for i will turn to ash soon enough.
I have to try, for me.

my mind feels scrambled as i wade away from the flame.
i know my pain could subside if i just give in but i must not, should not but the pain... it wallows within me, my skin aches and teeth chatter.
please make it stop, i cannot handle this without the embers.

once more,
just please relieve me flame,
i need you... right?
please?

As I float towards the gravelly riverbank,
I look at what once were my fins,
now worn down to but a nub.

Years of fighting to swim upstream had destroyed my body, and I can swim no longer.
I no longer fear leaving the cold,
blood-stained water;

The current is far too mighty for me to fight anymore.
The fish that swim past me look with such disdain and cruel pity,
another to fall to delusions of grandeur.


I wish to fight the current longer,
impossible in my mutilated vessel.
while the stream carries me to the bank,
I scrape my scales against the shallow, rocky river floor,
the last power I can muster against the stream.
My veins exposed and mangled,
gushing blood as if it were its own river.


My mangled scales leave no questions for whatever finds me,
For I was just a fish,
nothing more.

The shadowy figure looms over me, incoherent rambles of love and apologies coming from his figure as the blood drips from my nose. Father promises not to do it again, but he lies, just as he does to mother. My will falters as I forgive him again because he's my father, right? Deep down, he must care; he has to. Please don't hurt me, Father? I'm sorry for making you angry. I will finish my food next time, I swear. My mother is a figment of what she used to be, for she does not hold me like she used to; the light in her eyes has left. Why do I feel sorry for him after he 'punishes' me? He does love me, of course; it was my fault anyway. Maybe my next birthday will be better; perhaps he will stop hurting me and my mother.
Maybe.
I love you, Father, forgive me.

Oh, moonlight, you grant me strength, concealing my skin and shame, for I destroyed everything to remove the suns light. The burden was too much to handle; hiding in the dark is my only friend.

Pushing the sun away has not granted me peace of mind; however, I miss the sun's warmth while enjoying the momentary pleasure. Oh, sun, your gaze would bring me shame, but I would relish it now. I beg for your return, though I understand you won't listen.

But oh, sun, I couldn’t allow your sight because it would reveal my burdens, mind, body and soul to you, but the cold darkness of the moon is destroying me.

Oh, sun, please gaze upon me one last time; reveal my penitence, for the distance between us allowed me to conceal it.

Forgive me, Sun.
Please forgive me, Sun
Sun, I’m sorry I’ve done this to you. Return unto me and forgive me. Although I do not deserve you, I yearn for your light and warmth.
To see myself in the light is to suffer, but the warmth would bring comfort, and darkness never could.
Goodbye, Sun.

As autumn hits, I find myself wallowing in my misery. Memories of what was and could’ve been gush through my head like the wind, along with the memories of you, like gorgeous autumn leaves flowing smoothly.
Without my wind I would not see you, for without you there are no seasons.
I shall soon stand against the wind and fall from the tree, floating above the ground as though it were still the fledgling birth of our love.
All my wind, my autumn leaves, my memories will soon compost along with me; for I will fade from existence.
My sweet Autumn, return unto me, for without you there is only wind.

The thorny branches of her touch have encompassed my skin and bone, turning what once was my tree of knowledge into a limerence-filled snag. I find myself wanting more, to lose my unique roots and fibre for the chance that our utter being and roots may intertwine.
To inosculate.
To be whole.

My paint wears thin, torn and exposed interior.
The waves clash against my exterior.
The salt stings beyond belief
The water has seeped through.

The keeper has left,
he could not handle the rotted wood any longer.
I wallow weakly, hoping for the decay to be noticed.
Hoping for what won't come.
My red and white paint turned tattered burgundy.
The lights barely shimmer anymore.

Indefensible to the onslaught of waves;
never taught how to stand tall against the water.
Perhaps the foundations weren't solid enough.

The salt-ridden water permeates through,
The rot is undeniably visible.
The keeper notices but does not falter.

His eye shines upon me for but a moment,
cold and pitiless gaze;
He must care no longer.