There once was a girl,
with a time bomb on her chest.
Her screams echoed inside my hollow mind,
her tears fell through the space
between my finger tips.
Her heartbeat matched the rhythm of the bomb
She prayed to an empty sky for more time,
but refused to cut the crimson wire.
When I cried and begged and pondered why,
she whispered in my ear.
“I must ignite.”
And I realized that there is no saving someone
whose flesh is made of dynamite.