Smoke unfurls,
closing its heavy fingers
around his concrete-drenched soul

The heat of his essence
has been smoldering
for as long as his questions have gone unanswered

Flames lace his veins,
urgently whispering “you are alive”
to reassure him in the dark

A fraction of himself likes the dark,
how it cloaks the smoke
that slithers out his lips

Through the cracks of his soul,
light seeps out,
staining the carpet with hope

His father likes to drain his soul
and hold his hope
to watch its light dim

Shelves of the house contain fragments
of pictures, fights, memories,
and his cooled spirit

He pierces his palms
with his rusty nails,
bringing fourth sizzling flames

He is on fire
but the fire is dying,
leaving him charred and cold

The girl brings him fuel
with her lack of innocence
and strategically-placed smile

His fire nibbles at her offerings,
savoring the sweetness
until its resistance breaks

Shadows retreat
when the room sets ablaze,
showing him everything

Shattered screams fill the smoky air,
and once the room’s engulfed,
they call him “monster”

But he emerges,
newly forged
and burning bright