Something was lost inside of me
when that fire burnt and that fire-
it show just how fragile
(and we deny that we are)
just like that porcelain doll,
lying on the floor.
Sometimes I see the stars
in the daylight, in the firelight
along with the broken bottles
on the stairwell,
reminding us why we stopped.
But it still didn't save us.
Something was lost that day-
the fire took it away from me-
and it will never come back.
Just in a sense, tearing apart
the softness if it was ever there.
And sometimes I want to get away
from that fire that still burns
in the daylight, burning everything
that falls in its way.