Fire

I was always cautioned to not wander too close to the fire

At this age, I was being introduced to temptation and desire.

Innocently thinking, fire was beautiful; how could it hurt?

Until I got too close and was burned.

As I grew up, I met people who had fires of their own

Foolishly, I let my heart be shown

Naively thinking, they were beautiful; how could they hurt?

Until I continuously got burned.

These burns are memories of what has passed

Memories of people, relations, situations I thought would last

These burns have charred my heart but answered the question “who am I.”

I was given the ability to identify

I am forgiving and willing to be burned for those that I care about

I am lost, but I still try to find my way, among the sea of self-doubt

I am intelligent in some areas; my naivety dominates in the others

I am unable to list what I would do for my sisters and brothers

I am my most significant critic, the harshest one of all

I am weak, but strong enough, to continue to pick myself up each time that I fall

I am an extension of the darkness, but light also reigns through me

I am a dreamer with the hopes of being free

I am independent, but still fear being alone

I have a fire of my own.

This poem is about: 
Me

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