5 minute poetry

[Funka Genocide]

it was my fire

they call me hero
might call me god
after I die
it doesn't matter
if you remember me
remember me
or forget me

don't forget me...

and it was warm
my passion
I loved, I loved and saw
with eyes finally open
I can see this world breaking
like waves on craggy shores
only to crash again
there is no end

only mine...

the tears are hot
sweeter than they should be
sorrows washed by them
made clean
into an empty pot
went my fire
and it was my fire
but I gave it to you

I am scared...

just hold the flame a moment
feel me kiss your finger tips
as I walk the endless path
as I am remembered
thank you for your love
but please just remember

it was my fire...