i stayed outside because
because i wasn’t sure what sort of power was in there
i held my foot from entering
entering into something that might be a facade
the container i carried
the container of me
it also was a bit of a sham, that if it encountered power . . .
well, who knew what would become of me?
the smells and the quiet, they near undid me.
what was this package,
so gross and so frail,
what was this package,
that i so did dread the reforming of it?
the flame it flickers,
perhaps for me,
but i might be made of quite flammable stuff
and who wants to burn?
that is the question, after all,
who wants to burn?
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