She felt it like

You'd held her

like a home, and

not a cage over

a blue-burning flame.

You told her you

were the Sun,

and that the

warmth she felt was

some type of love.

Then she burned like a

brushfire: scalding and

ferocious; oppressed and

violent. Did you not

realize what she was?

She holds two lips that

kissed the Devil once

and in her grew the

fire you thought you

planted in her soul.

This girl was never

yours. She belongs in

the Devil's arms; the

only man that could

ever make her strong.

Heed my warning,

Mr. Sun. Never leave

a wildfire girl, for she

will never grieve

and always rage on.

She'll love you and

she'll keep you warm,

but leave her and she

burns.