When the fire is kept like a prisoner,
trapped within four walls,
there’s nothing left for it to do
but turn upon its host.
The flames they spread like rumours,
attack the wood like tyrants,
burning from the inside out
‘till my poor house crumbles down.
Now all that lies between us,
me and my unwanted truth,
is a sordid pile of ashes.
How could I shut out what was already in?
How futile. How foolish.