• I am a firework.
    My match is lit.
    As it grows shorter,
    so does my sanity.
    Soon my fuse reaches its end,
    and my life is beautiful.
    The colors, excite my world.
    But than, I am once again,
    nothing.
    I am left,
    A pile of ugly, broken, unwanted ashes.
    Waiting to be blown away, in the wind.
    To reform once more.
    Only to do it over again.
    I am a firework.
    Wishing I had never been set off.
    Wishing my fuse had been left untouched,
    just as I am now.