built to destroy.
it spawns into existence and snowballs like a star,
collapses in on itself and it’s like nothing ever happened.
a self cleaning oven. a sun. prodigal or otherwise.

lost,
might be another way to put it.
left to it’s own devices too long.
not to be trusted with its own firey blood.
you could smell the sulfur fumes for miles,
smoke signals curling into angry fists
scraping the sky, looking for a fight.
what is there to fight?

it may have been too long.
calcified in the meantime, turned to stone.
statue of limitations. know what I mean?
I was going to say something, I was.
strong and bright, like...