Like the flame of a used cigarette
I'm dying
Away, from light
From the fame of which I knew little of
How great is the toll of terrible and uncertain things
That burn us out
Like a pathetic fire that never stood a chance
Against the torrents of angry rain
I am bitter orange
Sinister yellow
Infuriated crimson
Wrapped up in a great ball of self-hatred
Like the flame of a used cigarette
I am contaminated, infected
Overcome by disease
And the death consumes me
