Gyrating, twirling, twisting, arching, ever swaying
Tiny dancers, flowing in graceful waves
Yet the slightest puff of air and they shrink away
Something so beautiful and clear
Is deadly power disguised; concealed by its ethereal beauty
The burn, the sting, the mark on the skin
But she loves the tiny dancers
And watches them lick her skin with twisted fascination
After the intense moment of pain
Everything is clear; she’s connected to the world around her
Her vision perfect, surrounded by the scent of damaged flesh
Her hearing picks up the rushing of her blood
Crashing through slender, silver veins
And the cracking of the flame
Her heart pounds, body burns, her breathing labored
The fire is her obsession, her addiction
Because only with the pain can she truly be alive.

(If you do not understand the metaphors just PM me, if you're wondering
yes the girl is me)
 
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