Her fire is liquid.
All from a crack so stupid-
so stupid deep.
Rising as columns so steep.

A moment calm.
A mother's palm.
Sweet carress.
And liquid sinks-
sinks back into its hum.

But the noise,
it gets too loud.
the noise in her head;
the bickering, chattering, destroying.
Her mind bound.
Thoughts still.
Unable to escape her hell.

And the slam is all it takes,
because it was all a scam.
Her heart aches-
has ached for years.

Her fire seeps.
Scarlet red.
Steaming and blazing,
for it had waited too long
for its freedom.
And now here it was.

All in her wake
were soon nothing but Ash.
Her fire steep as Harlech.
Liquid boiling.

They stood before her-
before what they'd once taken
as just a flower
about to blossom.

But they did not think,
not for a moment,
that she would become this...

This beautiful, blazing, blinding,
killing
FIRE.

© mayuri