Set my soul on fire
I beg of thee,
Confined as it is,
Beneath wounds, and blood
Thorns and mud,
A sturdy citadel.
All in ice, I promise of you
You will not break it
You will not dig through.
It is in itself built of might
Built stronger each breath
By pain, and by spite.
That it no longer feels alive
Numb to all that gives life
In pursuit to numb,
All of that which took mine.
Set my soul on fire,
I beg of thee.
I have gone cold long enough
That I miss the pain of being burned alive.
Why is my path dreary
This way no thorn to spike
No trees alive
No stars that shine.
Am I to embrace but the dull of life?
An ascetics way
Is it what you have chose for me?
A dull Grey stitched abrupt, the tapestry.
Set my soul on fire
I beg of thee.
For nothing strokes my curiosity
Nothing finds me joy,in truth
In lies, there is no solace to find.
Nothing touches my soul anymore
Nothing to amaze, to surprise
To love, nor to let my blood rise.
What is this numbness
I have brought upon myself
I know not it’s depth or expanse.
I thought it a weakness to feel
But not to feel, is to cut wings
Of a bird of flight.
I seek the sin of desire
The urge to feel
To make a stone bleed
To make a thorn sing
To feel the warmth of the winter wind.
To burn snowflakes, to set the water free.
Set my soul on fire,
I beg of thee.