I could see the green light turn yellow
with the orange row made of those cones
the caution kind-you know.
But why I didn’t follow them home
I just don’t know.
I could see the flames grow higher
I could feel the heat of their fire
But why I resigned to being burned
I guess I wanted to feel it hurt?
You ran from me
just like I’d asked you to.
My heart breaks
I didn’t take care of you.
I hate this hurt but
I must be a masochist
the pain subsides the more it burns
inside my clenched fist.
Now I’m sure I’m alive
this acute pain is also chronic.
Thanks to this death I’ve survived
the fatigue reminds me not to forget it.
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