I rake my hand along steaming embers just to feel the pinpricks in my palm

Red spots dance across my skin, tiny coals sizzling down to the bone

The rising smoke encourages me to gag, but I choke down the scent along with the tears in my eyes

I feel a tug between my ribs to succumb my entire being to ashes

Not just my corporeal basis, my spirt itself seems to yearn for the shape of proverbial dust

The fact of my existence wells up a boil of ache within me

Something softer than original sin, but not quite pure human nature

It's a stagnant necrosis of what I was supposed to be, the rot of promise twisted along my skeleton

Some creator whispered the path of destiny around my essence, but wither bit into the fruit of my conception and left me paralyzed at the fork

Potential faded away as consciousness leaked in and influence seeped between my pores

However, I never parade in song and dance beneath a dunce cap, for just like everything, a fool cannot be made out of nothing

I may be matter, but the space between my atoms swallows ant outline of purpose

I am a shell of flesh containing half-uttered covenants from a time no one was around to record

Was my pledge to fate interrupted, or was it simply dropped due to my lackluster finish?

My answer stands before from me in the mirror

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