Poem about self sabotaging in friendships

Hold me from the middle

Lest I flame from both ends

Watch off white wax fall onto tough soil floor

My smoke will sink through ashen sky

My wick flickers before your eye

At times my body chars too far

Brittle black branded by broken, beaten bonds

Vows to grow cause forest fires

Lands of lies I wished to retire

And yet I still burn

I tried to be good

But when you smell smoke

Your first response is to prod and poke

It's not to see that I've almost run

But to tell ne I must've hurt, burnt, devoured

You speak to those that hold me still

Your one piece of advice

Drop me when I go too far

And stamp me out in the grass

Don't recognise you struck the match.