The Final Flames

a poem by Paula Michelle Puddephatt, UK

To let her spirit dance, and set her free -
if only. Her own body is her cell.
Entranced by birdsong, nature's melody -
she yearns to heed their call, but feels unwell

day after day. It's not a "lifestyle choice".
Some "choice": to just be stuck indoors again.
Talks to herself - checks she still has a voice.
Facebook, Twitter and You Tube keep her sane -

and make her crazier, at the same time:
the friends she talks to, but can never touch.
Reality has reason, yet no rhyme.
Daydreams are her escape. She dreams too much.

When she comes back, it's always with a crash.
It hurts each time. You'd think that she might learn.
Maybe she'll see it - once her dreams are ash -
once the final flames are duly extinguished,
never to return.

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