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Fire Inside

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Some have come like moths to flame—
They sense the fires inside you;
A few to reignite their shame,
And some to lie beside you.

Some have come to douse the coals
As volunteers, in batches;
Some with ladders, tea and rolls;
And some with oil and matches.

Some have come from warmer lands
To speak of frozen roses;
Some with hatchets in their hands,
And some with swollen hoses.

Some have come through smoke and mist
To wonder at the crater;
But I have come — an arsonist—
My heart — a detonator.