Letter addressed to Fire

I feel like Letter addressed to Fire,
Like an End for looping wire,
Hope for the line of shine and sparkle,
Leaving won fight for matriarchal,
Am a letter or the scent of the flower,
Leaving the origin fly away farther,
Shivering with the glamour retrograde,
The surge from the vision rechochet,
I can feel the reality,
Strangers are the reality of the dome,
Drooping as I move from each velodrome,
Where does the ink recede?
Where's the carving of heart saying?
Eventually, that saying is deceased,
Flexible hope of long gone attitude,
Now written beautifully on the pane,
The residing terror and haunting melody,
Is ripped out of the shivering fame,
I can glimpse the appetite of life,
I was filled and the heart was unoccupied,
Surface got painted, pain fades from spirit,
My ample sacrifice for the relief which I intuit,
Pain got the aisle out of where's it's maiming,
But now its time to be addressed to the thing it's written,
The warmth that that chill out the howling pain,
Igniting letter, burning the nasty sensation,
Aroma of the spurting hope around heart,
Can easily be felt and be altered into art,
I was in the yellowish area of dancing flames,
Complexion changing like clouds of capricious frames,
This change can be the advent of sprouting hope,
Can direct life to a new objective of scope,
And I will be a ballad they'll never remember,
But I know, I gleam, I'm amber,
I am a revolutionary who hasn't faced revolution,
I'm pleased by their courageous evolution,
For me, I'm not a satire,
I'm just a Letter addressed to Fire.