Incomplete

Part a poem I began, but never finished.

I'll tell you what's inside,
But you'll only call me a liar;
Once, the flames were out,
But now you've set me on fire.

When I look to the sky,
I see hope to inspire;
But when you hold me to the ground,
I can't see much higher.

Constant are your words,
dragging me further and further,
But upon my soul rests your blame,
Just to get away with murder.

Author's Note

Work in progress. Thoughts and ideas welcome. Thank you!