Burning Of Fireflies Poem by Maximus D. Redwood

Your gifts, like fires, warm me
But they also burn.
Selfish, I am so selfish to—
To accept them.
I am not okay, but you cannot know.
If you know, you will feel bad for me,
You'll give so many gifts to me, things I do not deserve, so—
So I am hiding away.
Hiding away until the day breaks away,
And the fireflies are the crumbs of what's left of it.
They feel the same exact fires I feel,
They know how harshly it burns to have such gifts.
Only they know of the pain I feel and—
And I want it to stay that way.