its brutal,
to desist revenge.

you ache from the friction,
and burst into a beautiful flame,

you forge the finest piece of steel
that cuts thru every bitter wave, that you go thru.

but you're not
defined by your worst.

you're not the fire that yearns
for retaliation. instead, you seek to reciprocate

all the energy that was invested into nurturing you up,
and try to forget how cold and wet they kept you, before now.

some days,
steel cuts itself,

and you bleed from wounds
that you indirectly inflict upon yourself.

some days you draw too close to the fire for warmth,
reminiscing how the cold used to cage you like a captive,

and now the heat of the fire like night tales tardily refreshes
your retentiveness and before you recollect, snap, you're burnt afresh.

then you
learn again, quickly,

how to find peace by the sea water,
away from the fire, canvassing the tides within you,

and you find yourself again,
the power within you, to find solace

all by yourself and discipline every dour will, that
knocks heavily on your door for the exchange of unyielding thoughts.

i never want to revenge.
it burns. it hurts like a wound that's supposed to heal, but never will.