Let them be as volcanoes
always fiery and blazing
but turning land into coal.
I’d rather be a mountain
tucked in with the others like a single snowflake
falling down with so many.
To have broken away from the others,
to stand tall and proud.
To be blanketed in snow
or glisten in the sun.
I’d rather be cold and hidden, and if
then shivering instead of an uncontrollable madness
than to be a ball of flames
where lives are destroyed
by their own decisions.
I’d rather be serene
than angry and always seen.
If I could hide within myself under the sky
I’d rather be a mountain than the other kind.