Untitled - or- Sing of Fire

Untitled -or- Sing of Fire

Inspiration comes in bursts,
Song from Hell
sprang from it and spontoninity.

A tang- a ping- a voice- an urge.

Song from Hell,
sung from such sweet lips
looking so much like my own.

Tune from the Underworld,
lull me into security,
false or even true.

That scares me more.

Oh, expire me to your song;
so sweet in ears
so sweet to sleep to.

Take me home,
fire and brimstone
is where I was bore.

I cry- I weep- I tear- I was.

I was not made of light-
like the others,
but I walked with them anyway.

Thought I could learn how to behave;
to be like them
and fit from shadow.

But trying never was doing.

Now, Song from Hell; chiming.
I am coming home.
Started and now I end.

Wrap around me warmth,
burn me till I am no more,
make my fears be true:

if I am consumed there is nothing more of me.

-Matthew Koutzun