Let not the burning fire smoulder,
And make you a prisoner to the comfort zone;
Monotonous will be the outcome,
That may hinder chasing the fire.
It is grave and silent with all lousy,
Zombies that come and go,
With no fire but smoke,
That suffocates me.
See great ones with passion,
As it keeps me going on and on,
Else its claustrophobic and pathetic,
As I search for the one with fire.
Thus I wonder their purpose,
For I see them void and blind,
With a ladder that is broken,
And can never be fixed.