some say the world will end in fire,
some say in ice.
from what I've tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
she screams.
her voice is like a silver arrow that slices through the air
piercing every eardrum within three metres
penetrating sku lls and echoing echoing echoing back
she's just a pretty little dandelion
drifting on the ; tiny and slender like little feathers
which brush and caress your cheeks
her face is streaked with bloody tears — she isn't all that pretty now, is she?
you don't remember why you lift the knife
why you strike her again and again, but there's something
something satisfying about the trickles of crimson that courses down your arms
all wet and precious and pristine.
and there still light which ripples
gliding gently over her delicate features
her mouth is pulled open; a silent scream
the jagged lines evident on her pale, pallid little face.
let me go let me go please let me go
she begs and she pleads and she shouts and she screams
but you won't let her go, just yet, not yet
because she's yours.
i'll do anything anything at all please don't not me
there's a flickering flame in your hand, cupped in your palm. it doesn't hurt now, does it?
burn burn burn hot burn hot fire burn hot hot fire
look at me; you say.
she looks and she cries and she thrashes and she shrieks
but she's yours.
how do you like it now, girl on fire?
how do you like it now?
A/N — so this was a random poem I plucked from the air; descriptions might be a little graphic and it may not make sense, but leave me your thoughts anyway?