We never change

We never change do we?
We never loved do we?
Same life it seems to be,
it never stops for me.

Do I really care about me?
Right now its plain to see.
That my fire flies are free,
they will never come to me.

Playing with fire

Like a moth drawn to a flame,
that dances, entice, and burns beautify.
He stands, looks, and to ponders,
the moth bends and relents.

He fails to fly away.

The overwhelming against the understanding,
sanity loses its hold.
The moth gets drawn deeper,
the dawn of insanity draws nearer.

Burnt wings and other unmendables.
He fell into a fable,
that fire can be fought with fire,
he regrets, now forgiveness he requires.