This
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You met me when I still smelled of fire and sulfur
When I was stuck in between the corpses
Of all those I had to leave behind
And you told me to be less
To be more centred
More composed
You keep telling me about moderation
About how I am a burning house
And that I should take care of the flames
You keep telling me about letting go
To bury the corpses
And that those things are no good for me
You told me to be anything else
I laughed
As if I could be anything other
Than this.
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