There's a fire in me,
I can feel it burning,
At times it fades,
Into nothing but smoke,
I'll feel like I'm garbage,
And doubt all my arts,
Is the fire still burning?
Or has it gone out?
The emotion, the realism,
It's all I am and all I do,
It's in my writing and poetry,
It's in my paintings and photography,
I've never quit despite the difficulties,
Despite the criticisms or judgements,
My quill flame has only grown bigger,
So I guess I'll hold on a little longer.