Gasoline Poem by Maximus D. Redwood

Gasoline.
It's in my stomach, mixing in with the acids.
Acids.
I grasp matches, stare at them with my—
My dark eyes.
The circles underneath have a perfect match.
Dark.
When will it be the time?
When will I do it?
When will I finally shove them through my—
My chapped lips?
When will I catch on fire from the inside out?
Chapped.
I want to ignite quietly, but there is no way to do that.
There is no way—
There is no way to stop the screams from escaping,
Like a frantic bird escaping from its pretty little prison.
I'll hear the fluttering eventually, like how the flames will sound.
I'll keep it on the inside,
This fire will stay in my stomach.
Stomach.
It's fine, this is fine, I'll hide the smoke by keeping my—
My mouth shut.
The secrets locked away like how it should be, and this is a big secret.
It should stay that way.
I should keep my suffering unknown.
Shut.