We are so combustible
that many have died,
burning with anger,
ambition, and pride.
We burn with jealousy,
passion, and hate,
unable to forgive
and unable to wait.
We burn with pure longing
and with lust that's at hand.
We are so combustible,
but don't understand.

When we don't burn,
we sit there and wait to ignite,
to flash into flame
at those things we dislike,
a match that's abraded
and ready to strike.

Then when we flash,
our flame's set to spread,
as we stop being smart
and stop using our head,
unable to cool off
and unable to learn
that when our flames then touch others,
their lives, too, will burn.