It won't last
Should we let this flame kindle?
Allow buds of love to sprout?
I've done it before:
Fan the flames in hopes of a wildfire,
Water the buds hoping for a tree.
The fire: my warmth on frigid nights.
And the green buds my pride and joy;
Till alas, the flame was stomped out
By the heartless boot of life.
The buds were asphyxiated
Strangled to death
By the unforgiving weeds of reality
I was left comfortless
Stranded on a deserted island
With anguish my only companion
См. статью: Is this poem I wrote any good?