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A Poem by M Crowe

Its not really a poem, but its not a story either, its just something

I have an answer now for you, about being like the monsters who hurt us. We’re not. You and me are like little fires. People have spent so long throwing water over us and kicking dirt on us and taking the air out of us that we struggle just to smolder any more. Every now and then though someone comes and drowns us in petrol and we explode in a bright and terrible flash of emotion and hope and pain and sadness and passion. We burn fast and hard and with such fury that we consume everything around us until we’ve reduced it to ash. Like dying stars, we are incapable of being our best without also being our worst.

For what little it’s worth, I’m glad

That we got to burn together.

I’m burning up alone now Nat

I’m so tired of burning up like this.