fire


It’s d a n g e r o u s, playing with F I R E.

“You’ll get b u r n t,” they say. “Stay a w a y,” they say.

But how do you know? How can you tell? Sometimes fire doesn’t look like fire.

They didn’t tell you, did they? Sometimes you don’t feel theĀ flames until they lick at your S O U L.

Pull away, l o v e. It’s not too late. Don’t loose h e a r t; you’ll be okay.

These fresh s c a r s? This P A I N? ItĀ all shall p a s s. A heart can H E A L.

And d a r l i n g, remember: if it wasn’t for second chances… we’d all be A L O N E.

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