Sometimes I can smell myself burning in hell.
The ashes of my sins pile up around me, cocooning me.
Like the ashes of the books they burnt in the name of God.
My skin curls up at the edges, blistering in the sun
Their side ways glances and up turned noses add fuel to the fire.
There are those who do not know me who wish to burn me at the stake,
they damn me to hell with out a single thought of their own chard lips.
They fear I am a cinder, a smoldering coal of lust, they cannot contain.
They say I am a spark that will soon engulf their home and children.
~Myranda N
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