Amelia Robinson

​I am fired up.
That fucking fondler,
fiddling around with the innocent and naive,
destroying flowers.
I was a flower,
I was the fool.
We were flying, fine, even divine,
but what was the point?
Frying up our fall, our descent, freeze of the troubles,
free to frolic.
But you had to make us finish,
end the party, end the fun.
I’m ready to fight,
you had no right!