Member-only story
Ignite.
A poem. Prompted by Photo.
Matchbook Born.
As a Matchstick I know no other form. Pulled from my home.
All alone.
I am Weak —
Before I Burn.
Robbed of my family, friend, and any foe. Just for you…
“What is it you need me to do? Anything I may assist of you? To explode… to help to expose?”
“To light up a smoke?”
“Is this a fucking joke? My purpose is not meant for what you bespoke!”
Here is a little something you may not know —
Once I’m Swiped,
My flame ignites…
Now, I’m in charge — Now, I decide.
A metaphysical detail, perhaps for those whom live in dark… Endlessly awaiting any type of
*spark*
As I flicker —
they’re sneaking, they’re grieving, they’re misleading.
They quiver —
Impulsivity, it is endless, a needing.
Let us Embark.
MY MARK.
You placed your future into my hands the very moment you ripped me out of my homelands!
