Crescendo of the Sun
Why?
Why can’t you do the simplest thing?
I give everything,
work myself into the ground,
and come home to nothing.
Fuel.
just the bare minimum,
yet it’s too much for you.
Maybe I’m asking too much.
Maybe this is just life.
Maybe
No.
The fire returns,
searing, twisting,
a thousand suns exploding in my chest.
You think I’m overreacting,
but this isn’t petty.
This is everything.
Who am I to hope?
Who am I to expect more?
This is my crescendo,
your moment of peace,
and then
Off with your head.
