Sometimes I think I’m water.
Well, technically a substantial portion of me is,
but I’m talking about,
free flowing water.
The kind that freezes when it’s cold,
or pools in shallow dips when it rains,
hangs around in the air
to fluff up
that girl’s neatly straightened hair.
Except it isn’t my form that changes.
It’s my mood,
my entire attitude
I’m not complaining, just
Once I thought it’d be good to be fire.
Then the wind caught my candle
and blew it out.