I don’t know why
We so often describe our lives with fire.
We light the match, we play with flames,
Get burned, become burned out.
I remember going to two stores
To find the right light bulbs.
My dad bought them for me,
The ones that replicate the sun,
Meant for the seasonal affective disorder
That so greatly affected me.
A mood that matched the seasons,
A blue that burned away in the sun.
And those hours I’ll never get back,
Studying for that test,
Raising that GPA by a tenth.
Late nights spent for a dream,
A school in the sun and a tan
To protect me from winter’s gloom.
Accepted with a full ride.
What do I do now?
Work, homework, scholarships.
When do I get to breathe, rest my eyes?
There’s no motivation,
Where’s the heat? Where’s the fire now?
Won’t the world fall apart if I’m not perfect?
I think about the way a star dies, fading away or burning up, supernova.
Good thing I’m not just a star,
I’m the sun.