Glowing, half transparent
underneath the pot, burnt,
yes I'm scorched but not sweating,
because I'm furious, so hurt!
Horrid, nagging insults
though they break before my skin,
salt unto the open wound
fire on oil's brim.
My tongue is dull as a dagger,
my bones rot like pure gold,
only like the fire,
I'm not at all bold.
I'm as weak as a boulder,
I'm as kind as...
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