My Most Secret Reality

I dream dreams of fists through drywall
smashing and tearing wood and flesh
I imagine tears upon skin, pained grimaces
to grace the face of all save my own
I lust for some semblance of power
the ability to twist and control

But I know my hands would do nothing
hit limp against barriers imposing and permanent
I feel my own heart tear deeper and scar
mine the only face wet and melting
I resign myself to weak temerity
and submit myself to the boot-heels of the universe

Thrashing and weeping in futile resistance,
I am a naive candle trying desperately
to keep my light lit in the midst of a storm
But silently I will sputter and fail
cast asunder by heartless wind
the will of a world of bonfires