To Become What Burns

​It began as a hunger,
and when it became a god,
I dove deep into the abyss.
Into collapse. Into the hollow.
Into Nothing.

And when I crawled out,
I bore fire in my bones.

Not warmth—
flame.
Not healing—
heat.

The kind that sears what’s false
and leaves only scars in the ash.

Fire was mercy against silence.
Against silence, always.