The dancing tongues of fire draw you closer and closer to its deadly heat like a magnet, until you're mesmerized, transfixed by the strange and terrible beauty of the scorching fire. You think to yourself,"We are all slaves of what we desire."
Oblivious to the warnings, you slowly reach out and touch the flickering flames, forgetting that the consequences will be dire if you do such a reckless thing. For one second, you feel oddly euphoric, and then, a cry of pain escapes from your lips as the leaping flames sear your fingertips- a sweet, twisted agony. As the saying goes, once bitten, twice as shy. You are no exception to that rule, so you hastily withdraw, tending to your wounds and vowing never to become sucked into the irresistible pull of the flames again.
I wish.. no. I'm wishing for the impossible.