The sky is burning,
With a thousand colours
Of a billion thoughts,
That shouldn’t exist.
Your fingertips barely scratch
The surface.
It’s not enough to want it,
You have to deserve it.
Don’t I?
Is that what all this means?
You stop. You stare. You think.
It isn’t what you want,
It’s never what you want.
But you’re too scared,
And too reprimanded to say otherwise.
You can’t do this,
It’ll only break you.
Amy Elizabeth Poetry 