The Flame

She dances in her bright orange dress.

Her fiery skin an inferno, causing distant shadows.

Her eyes blaze with the heat of the unknown.

Danger flickers in her every move.

Her hands lash out at anything near,

Her red hair escaping into the night

as it falls out with each step,

flying away into the night.

Her embers glow in the darkness.

Sometimes she whispers,

Her tiny voice crackling and slowly,

Ever so gently, becoming louder

and louder

and louder

until it's a Roar,

And the rush of her dance,

And the sight of her color, 


She gets angrier,

Her body feeding off the oxygen,

Feeding off the night air,

Her body consuming everything,

Her beautiful dress cascading down in a giant wave,

Hiding everything in her path.

She has become.

She is.

The last thing you'll see:


her terrifying hair,

her deadly dress,

her gentle hands,

pulling you under.

Until life is stopped.


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