Ivy Beam - The Flame

A burned girl; she has no face,
no one spot to call a place.
She sits all day
to stare at the rain.
She'll toil and toil to
the soundless sound,
her deepest fears already abound.
With crutching DESIRE,
she longs to CONSPIRE
a work of FIRE
-and brimstone.

Ivy Beam

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-flame/