The Presence of the Unwanted

My hands pulsate with

blistering burns,

pain

blotting out the colors from 

the fiery landscape around me.

Inhale smoke, 

exhale regret - is this 

fragile breath what

keeps

me from falling?

My arm hairs are scorched

and singed, forest fire

behind me eroding

entire lives away.

My

eyes water, 

and I wonder

if the salty drops

could be enough to hiss out

an ember or two. 

My unsteady

heart

pounds past my ribcage,

and though each welt stings,

they remind me of what 

I can't survive without, 

and remind me 

my life force is still

beating.

This poem is about: 
Me
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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