Many write about the duality of life
The war between fire and ice
But those two words imply all the wrong feelings,
Associating heat with a burn,
And cold with another
For me, the duality is not between fire and ice,
But frigidity and immolation.
When I am cold, I am alone,
Shaking and shivering,
As my thoughts echo through a dark that is impossibly thick.
All I want is a light.
Al I want is the warmth.
When I am warm, I am overwhelmed
With a passion so bright it overtakes my entire vision
My entire world.
I cannot reach out to others
For fear of spreading my horrid flames
So I am once again alone
Burning myself out
Until the inevitable cold returns
It is not that ice burns just as hot as fire,
It is that each burns worse than the other,
in a vicious cycle of aggression and submission
That only ends in isolation.
From each side, the other looks more appealing
But I have felt these changes enough
To know the lie behind these hopes
I wish I could drop the two feelings all together
I wish I could rid myself of this disorder
But reality can burn worse than any fire or freeze
And my reality is this:
I am not cold, I AM the cold.
I am not burnt, for I AM the fire.
Perhaps I must take a lesson from this knowledge.
I cannot rid myself of these feelings for I AM these feelings.
These scars have made me who I am today.
And perhaps my mix of warmth and cold
Just might mix well enough to spread light and comfort to those around me.