The Fire Within

Burning rage consumes anyone near it, no matter who it is.

The fires withing me are burning,
burning brighter than anything else,
those who know me, see it,
those who are strangers, do not,
those who know me, fear it,
those who are strangers, do not,
I pity them, their ignorance.

The fires withing me burn brighter,
bright enough for all to see,
I tremble, I quake, I shiver, I shake,
because those fires are swallowing me,
tearing me apart from within,
and if I do not take great care,
they could consume me.

The fires withing me are rampant,
burning wherever they go,
leaving nothing but cinders behind,
if anything impedes them, they destroy,
if anyone tries to put them out,
they themselves are destroyed,
burned by the fires they fight.

The fires withing me are dying,
their flames lower, to become tolerable,
finally slowing their rampage,
but still desperately trying to keep alight,
failing, but still trying,
trying to evade being extinguished,
evade being doused forever.

The fires withing me are dead,
run out of fuel to stoke them,
looking back, and seeing burned enemies,
but also burned friends, who turn their backs,
repulsed by the flames I harbored,
to all my former friends, I repent,
to any enemies I burned, I would burn again

For you are the cause of the flames that burned you.