Awake.

You were an arsonist. Everywhere you went you'd start a fire and paint yourself with the ashes. I could swear you had a death wish. Every night you laid your head in a freshly made casket. You danced with the devil and you played the lead. You'd run until you skinned your knees and you'd just let it bleed. You were careless, not in the least bit cautious, you'd put yourself on a pedestal just to throw yourself off it. There was something honest about every cut and scrape. You kept yourself a canvas of bruises just to keep yourself awake.