She was burning: her skin blistering to runny red under their gaze, her hair frizzing and frying in the oil exuding from her scalp.
She wished she could go up in flames, explode, a shower of sparks and smoke. She wished she could be spectacular, however briefly.
Instead, she smouldered, unremarkably consuming herself from within. An acrid smell and a sullen glow the only indications of her searing pain.
What was surprising was that the freezing glances that came her way, the cold water poured over every attempt she made to be accepted offered no relief, but fanned the flames.
Tom Juniper Poetry 