The Epitome of Freshman Year

In my old best friend's bedroom
drunk and stoned out of my head
I keep lighting myself on fire
again and again in her bed.
Every time, it burns
and every time, I scream
but once it's out, I light it again
and cry as it jolts me from my dream.
My friends all jump and yell and leap
at me to put me out,
but none of them take the lighter away,
so it does no good to shout.

This poem is about: 
Me
My community
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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