such pretty things
Sometimes I am the spark that sets off the fireworks,
Other times I am the wire that trips the bomb.
Either way, I've blown it all up again.
Sometimes I am the fireworks,
Other times I am the bomb.
Either way, I've blown myself up again.
Such pretty things are thrust into the sky,
It rains around me -
I rain around me.
Must I pick myself up again?
Must I put together the pieces?
I'm certain I'll explode.
I'm certain it all will.
But maybe it won't.
Maybe that's enough.