The Real Meaning of a BurnPrimary tabsView(active tab)EditSat, 09/28/2013 - 14:20 -- museteddybears Give this poem props: Cancel ratingGive it 1/3Give it 2/3Give it 3/3No votes yet 

It started as a spark

but due to lack of care and love,

bursts into flames.

Now all that remains are the 

empty, unstable, ashy frames.

I was real once. 

I was human.

I had friends.

But that was a fool's thought,

Once the sharp whispers and rumors,

turn into knives that cut into your very soul.

I was loved by them, so I thought.

But love fades and slowly turns into hatred.

Now all the light and happiness was gone,

all because one kid decided she didn't like you.

Now you are surrounded by nothing but

Empty promises and feeling that

swell inside of you until you explode,

but not into flames, as you might wish.

You burst into tears, constant river falls,

nothing but the pain of a new day to comfort you.

And all it took was one whisper,

to start a forest fire.