I, Fuel


I, Fuel, am pulled through the blackened passage,
When there seems to be no hope something is changed,
I meet a companion,
Pure, beautiful, Air,
We combine, and are liberated from the unholy passage,
As we see the tarnished piston, we are overcome,
Its impure, grimy form stands out to us,
Then it rises from the bottom,
And compresses us into combustible form,
We are unstable, caught unawares by the thing above,
It ignites us,
Changing and detonating us,
Siphoning my beloved Air into the explosion,
The force of my explosion,
The gas that I fabricated upon my death,
My remains,
Thrusts the dreadful piston downwards,
But I am gone, burnt away,
Changed,
I feel the energy rush away,
To feed the beast that is around my corpse,
As I watch, from another world,
I see my remains overpowered by the appalling piston,
Swept away to the outside world, gone in the wind,
I am Fuel,
And that is my story.

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems


Share This Poem