Smoke rising from bed rock,

Red fire in my heart’h’,

Did I turn off the stove?

Filaments burn brighter,

Ever so tighter,

In my confines.

A room,

A shack,

A decent cage,

Once I leave,

It leaves me not,

But lingers ever-so,

With a static allure.

Oh! Hear it flood,

From the faucets plenty,

Collecting as seas bloody,

Near the shore. 

You are a safe haven,

A bed of thousand pins.

Protruding million strings that tie, 

To this twitching marionette.

As it fades into the dusk,

Pull from the strings tightens,

Thousand hands at this tug-of-war,

“Did I turn off the lights,

What about the garage,

Wait I don’t have one.

Lopsided was my pot…” 

Who comes out on top.

Comfort in my dreams,

Tucked in with you,

For eternity.