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His soul
July 1, 2010
His soul; a furnace…
Fueled by those and that around him,
burning, bright as a sun, by day.
But by night, with no fuel to burn
His soul cools, and cools
He can do nothing to stop it
He can only watch as the fire dwindles
Until it’s merely a flicker of what it had been.
He dreads every moment,
He must decide;
Loose the spark of his humanity,
In a brilliant supernova; of awe inspiring insanity
Or throw himself into his furnace of animation,
And feed the fiery inferno of his own soul
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