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Who ever was?

Underneath, full on fire.
Blazing and red hot,
cuts through the slats of my chest-piece.

Ashes rain down, little drops
of stone. My face is moving side to side,
this is a caricature of who I am.

To grow from the soil is
a feat that will never go unnoticed.
This warmth within me
always eats my memory.

Constantly shuffling, stumbling forward
in an insane march, my bones melted outward,
sticking to the metal that encases me.

No one ever was,
we always stumbled, fell.