Tedious Flames
I used to be a zippo
with a wondrous flame,
mesmerizing many men
mending my path to fame.
But with every flip and every trick
my liquid flame trickled slowly away.
Hinges would break with every shake,
day and day after day.
Now my own precious fluid
is nearly depleted.
Feeling less and less lucid,
more and more often I'm seated.
My hinges have broken,
leaving so many words unspoken,
for the will to speak them is gone.
Now I remember
that upon my birth
was given to me,
a lifetime warranty.
I can replace
my current disgrace
with elegant grace,
but that would not be me.
I gaze at the stars
into the dead trenches of mars,
where life used to be.
And I see
the beauty
in death.
I look at my scars
and relive their stories.
I laugh at my reactions to the pain
I thought was so intense,
until I felt the next,
laughing that I was far from slain.
For even though I'm broken
and my fluid is gone,
the memory of my flame
shall burn on and on.
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