such pretty things

 Sometimes I am the spark that sets off the fireworks,

Other times I am the wire that trips the bomb. 

Either way, I've blown it all up again. 

Sometimes I am the fireworks,

Other times I am the bomb. 

Either way, I've blown myself up again. 

Such pretty things are thrust into the sky,

It rains around me - 

I rain around me. 

Must I pick myself up again?

Must I put together the pieces?

I'm certain I'll explode.

I'm certain it all will.

But maybe it won't.

Maybe that's enough.