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I burn
<p>“When I Burn”<br/></p><p>Some nights, it’s quiet.</p><p>Too quiet.</p><p>Like my thoughts are holding their breath,</p><p>waiting for the match to strike again.</p><p>And it always does.</p><p>It always finds a way.</p><p>I tell myself I’m fine</p><p>that I’ve got it under control this time.</p><p>But then something small,</p><p>something stupid,</p><p>cracks the surface,</p><p>and suddenly I’m drowning in heat again.</p><p>It’s not anger.</p><p>It’s not sadness either.</p><p>It’s both</p><p>and neither</p><p>twisting together until I can’t tell which one is killing me slower.</p><p>People think I write to heal.</p><p>But I don’t.</p><p>I write to survive.</p><p>To bleed on paper instead of wrists.</p><p>To make beauty out of the madness before it swallows me whole.</p><p>Because inside, I’m wildfire.</p><p>One wrong thought and I’m gone.</p><p>Burnt out.</p><p>Ashes wearing a calm face.</p><p>The kind of calm that scares people,</p><p>because they can feel it</p><p>the stillness right before something explodes.</p><p>I wish I could explain what it’s like.</p><p>How some days I wake up soft,</p><p>and others I wake up ready to destroy everything that ever hurt me.</p><p>How my chest feels like a furnace</p><p>and my smile, a smoke signal no one reads right.</p><p>They call it mood swings.</p><p>I call it combustion.</p><p>Because that’s what it feels like</p><p>my emotions fighting for space,</p><p>my sanity flickering like a dying flame,</p><p>and me,</p><p>standing still,</p><p>pretending I’m not burning.</p><p>If you see me quiet,</p><p>just know</p><p>it’s not peace.</p><p>It’s the moment before the fire.</p><p><br/></p>
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