The way a flame flickers entices the watcher.
Draws them in.
Casts a spell and pulls them closer.
And then they are burned, and suddenly the flame is evil.
It hurts.
It sears.
So why don’t they come with warnings?
Labels attached that say, “Don’t come close unless you want to burn.”
But we should know these things.
We should know that fire hurts if touched.
Shouldn’t we?
What if the flame cannot be seen?
What if you’re reaching for the unknown and it happens to be fire?
It happens to be that burning flame?
If we answer no, we tell them not to take risks.
If we answer yes, they get hurt and blame it on us.
Which is the better option?
Will these skills transition?
Probably.
So we tell them yes, reach for it because the unknown can be wonderful.
So very wonderful.
And we watch them hurt themselves so much that they tread carefully.
They take no more risks.
I was told yes, reach for the unknown.
Reach for the flame.
So I burned until there was nothing left of me to burn.
And only now am I cautious.
But caution is slowly killing me, just like taking risks did.
In some sick, twisted way, being cautious and taking risks are the same thing.
Yet completely different.
I’m dying because I am not burning.
No, now my skin rips where I touch it.
It’s nothing like burning.
It’s aching, trembling.
It’s poison.
Is taking the role of the risk taker better?
Well, what do you crave more?
Fire or poison?
Draws them in.
Casts a spell and pulls them closer.
And then they are burned, and suddenly the flame is evil.
It hurts.
It sears.
So why don’t they come with warnings?
Labels attached that say, “Don’t come close unless you want to burn.”
But we should know these things.
We should know that fire hurts if touched.
Shouldn’t we?
What if the flame cannot be seen?
What if you’re reaching for the unknown and it happens to be fire?
It happens to be that burning flame?
If we answer no, we tell them not to take risks.
If we answer yes, they get hurt and blame it on us.
Which is the better option?
Will these skills transition?
Probably.
So we tell them yes, reach for it because the unknown can be wonderful.
So very wonderful.
And we watch them hurt themselves so much that they tread carefully.
They take no more risks.
I was told yes, reach for the unknown.
Reach for the flame.
So I burned until there was nothing left of me to burn.
And only now am I cautious.
But caution is slowly killing me, just like taking risks did.
In some sick, twisted way, being cautious and taking risks are the same thing.
Yet completely different.
I’m dying because I am not burning.
No, now my skin rips where I touch it.
It’s nothing like burning.
It’s aching, trembling.
It’s poison.
Is taking the role of the risk taker better?
Well, what do you crave more?
Fire or poison?