As I sit and stare into the darkness,

I think about what has become of me.

Where I am going,

Where I have been.

I gaze longingly,

Hoping for some light to cast upon my future.

To hint of what is to come.

Of what might be.

Even as I attempt to shut my eyes,

I find myself forcing them back open.

I plunge my fingers deep within my sockets,

Hoping to extinguish this burning flame of thought.

The further my fingers penetrated,

The more intense the flames became.

As I twist and prod,

The charcoals enraged the fire.

It seemed only suffocation could put the fire out.

But as I tried to do this,

The blanket caught flame.