There's a slow burn
kindled with slow turns,
twists of the wrist,
whims of the mind,
owned by a girl who might never learn
possessions possess the possessor.
She's racing but her chief
doesn't schedule pitstops.
She's boxing but her coach
isn't watching the fight.
Silently, she waits for closure;
you would too
when your insides can't raise thier influence
over the bonfire of your life raging.
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