The Inky Blue

Who is to know the fate of the thousands

If the hand that wields arms flinch

We are not alive just because the stars aligned

We are breathing because the flame burns too wild to cease

Some may call it strength and admire the flame

Some may name it insidious and cast it a wicked fame

There is no glory in walking amongst the dead

For the dead writes as much history as the living

Exposition: Who is to know the fate of your future if you yourself hesitate with every step? In every person, there is a fire in them that keeps them alive. Sometimes it may translate as stubbornness or insistence that makes others uncomfortable. Who cares if someone judges our inner fire just because they are without their own? There is no glory in trying to fit in when you know being a mindless chameleon is only going to make you miserable.