Match Box

Strike it

Once, twice

Find the flame.

It eats and grumbles, an angry thing

It does not like to be told what to do

Creeping closer and closer to all of you.

Your blood is oil;

A tasty dish.

But first it must burn away that useless flesh.

Down to the bone it chews and nibbles

Just a thumb to lose; the goal is crucial

Why attempt to douse the flame?

There's value placed on this thick stench;

Paired with the taste of candle wax.

I thought the screaming would have softened, sweet

But agony has its own interests-

A snap and pop there goes the joint,

It's turned to ash; blood pools the socket.

There's nothing left apart from the consequences

Of lighting a match and using your nail as the fuse

For the flame to follow eagerly.