#grim words

until September

Sometimes I feel like fire, not in the sense that I burn in rage but that I destroy and dirty everything I touch. That the charred soot left by my fingers will remain long after I am gone. That the marks I leave will take years for people to repair, for them to forget.

Other times I feel like the fire doesn’t burn hot enough, that the rage and passion i once felt is gone. Left in its place is an empty shell.

I wish I knew how to regulate my fire, if there even is a way or if this is all in my head and I’m over thinking.

Perhaps I’m too self important.

And I swear it’s true!

A life swallowed by sin -

Treading needles and pins.

A heart often prone to be mendacious,

A lust that lurks so willingly voracious .

For a long many years have I lived unkind,

Now I sit and I grin - my teeth, they grind.

Someday, they say, I’ll have paid my toll -

‘Til then, I repress this oppressive, sullied soul.

FS Lewis