Rust

I may be young

and still thrive 

with a little

fire on my tongue. 

But if this bottle

were to shatter

and give me a choice.

To stay stunted in self

and place this poisen

back on the shelf,

or a limited lifetime

of headaches and heroics.

I'd stare

at the broken pieces 

of the shatter,

and I would always

confide in the latter. 

With cherished words like,

'I'd rather be ashes than dust',

Well,

I'd rather burn out,

than be confined 

to the rust.