Building for Burns

A short poem about being blinded about someone’s poisonous behavior that affects others.

Bridges are left half burned as I build forward.
They start a fire again,
Jeering at burned work.
I build again,
They burn again.

I smile at the ashes that fall into the crevasse.
The fire ends my work,
I build again.
Every word they speak causes the fire to prosper,
Grow.

But sometimes there is a silence,
I build,
I make it to the edge.
I rejoice,
They smile.
They open their mouth and the bridge burns again,
I become ash.
I put the ash together,
Building myself up,
Making it to the other side,
Building again.

I miss that smile,
I will build for that smile.

Build, burn,
Build , burn…
Smile.
I smile.

Taken in,
I am taken care of.
From the ground I am built.
I will no longer do the building.
But it fades.
It is gone…
They spoke and moved me back to ash.
A revelation came to me about my pain.
The source was from the place I considered home.
I built the bridge.
I used the same flames that destroyed me, to my capture.
They speak,
Jeers.
I fall.

The ash begins to make piles,
I almost reach them.
I speak,
But they do not burn.
They speak, I burn,
Burn,
Burn,
Burn,
Burn…

I make my way up to the other end of the bridge.
The sounds coming from their mouth create deeper wounds than before as I run.
Running now seems like home,
Even though I hear the whispers and feel the twists in my heart.
The town ventured off from the ashes I know.

Why do not others know the ashes?
Why are not others marked with burns?
Do they know the pain of constant burns?
Can others see my burns?

I try to hide them,
But they hurt more.
More and more they sting.

I look at them,
They create the map of my sorrow.
People talk at me,
Making suggestions,

I grasp my bandage,
It is ready to wrap around the pain.
To heal,
Not to ignore.

To build is not bad.
To build for a hypocrite,
However,
Is debilitating.