She felt it like
You'd held her
like a home, and
not a cage over
a blue-burning flame.
You told her you
were the Sun,
and that the
warmth she felt was
some type of love.
Then she burned like a
brushfire: scalding and
ferocious; oppressed and
violent. Did you not
realize what she was?
She holds two lips that
kissed the Devil once
and in her grew the
fire you thought you
planted in her soul.
This girl was never
yours. She belongs in
the Devil's arms; the
only man that could
ever make her strong.
Heed my warning,
Mr. Sun. Never leave
a wildfire girl, for she
will never grieve
and always rage on.
She'll love you and
she'll keep you warm,
but leave her and she
burns.
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