The Ring of Fire

Puzzle pieces scattered all around the room
My torment plastered on the walls.
I'm seeing red, can't seem to erase these things seared inside my head.
People running in circles,
Ashes, ashes, we all fall dead.
They turn and taunt teasing me in the vicious circle.
I'm gagged. I don't know where to go.
Nobody stops to check my pulse.
No one stops to staunch the blood.
They run ahead, leaving me to follow, but never to catch up.
They're an optical allusion, changing themselves every time I turn my head.
Myself I morphed in vain, laughing more, watching less.
I wiped my eyes, pulled down my sleeves to disguise the blood,
But somehow their games always alluded me.
Their words of fury, hatred, and disgust,
layed a kerosine trail, blazing across my skin.
My own personal tatoo of shame, branded to my name.
I'd hit a dead end, no one to turn to, no where to go.
I was at an all time low.
So I stood up.
I covered my ears and walked away.
The rain poured down, but I left with my head held high.
The rain carressed the bloody torrents racing down my arms.
The lightning flashed lighting up the way.
The thunder roared in the distance, inviting me forward.
And I marched.
Step by step, I was moving on, leaving the games behind me.
So let them run in their circles.
Let them play with wicked tounges fire.
For admist this storm, I found my beat.
Now forward I march,
To the beat of my own drum.