One month of not knowing what to do.

 

Two months of having a plan

and nothing in to show.

 

Three months of showing the world

what I can do and

where I can go.

 

Four months of having the flames

speak for themselves

while others chuckle

stocking higher shelves.

 

Five months of bringing new

fire into a world that does not

appreciate my daily task

and to be brushed away

underneath my plastic mask.

 

Six months where people have                                                                                   

told me I am not worth

the time or effort

to help

only  to show them that I am the perfect

man for this job.

 

Seven months of work that have culminated

into the life in which

young fires have begun

to take the similar steps that

even I once thought

were too much

to be bought.

Two thirds of my year spent

wishing to prove my bent

mind was more

than what others can.

I have evolved past the awful

parts and the grime is gone.

Even as a man

I strive to be the one.

Three quarters of a year and love

of passion        of myself             

has turned me into the worst

No                             least desirable person

I could have become.          

Yes I want more                        Yes I am

A human torch that burns

so that others may find light

In this world of darkness.

Ten months            and I fall. 

Forward into the life I                  desperately 

do not need                  want.

I am the first      and I will

Fling myself down                          desperately 

For I shall not                         want. 

My life has            taken off 

Fishing away and                             desperately 

Pulling for                                want. 

I have become a monster who desperately wants.

One month before and I          am dying.                                                                                                

I want to show I am better       at dying.

I care for those who have not

 

been cared for. 

I burn for those who have not

been burned.                                                

                                                                               

Away I tell myself        push away.                                       

                                                                 

Bringing a new life       pushed away. 

I have become the cared for                  

by those who care.                                            

I have become the burned by

those who have been. 

This is the end of myself.

12 Months of torture for this moment.