ASH

Kindle hair.
Dark she says.
Evil side she warned.
Nothing but an incendiary touch of virtue.
Be it with word, mind or spirit.
There's kindled hair
Burning my mind with question.
And with every cindered lock:
Questions and questions .
Those yes, are dark and evil.
Answers i will not think.
Answers never thought.
All those with a wildspreading gaze.
With those keys to soul.
Turned as an edgy knife to my way.
Haunting eyes.
So:
She haunt's me, so i hunt her.
Why?
Food for thought.
Turning tables.
As and anyway.
And with the mind is still scarred with the lacing burn.
Torch to cinder.
Blazing into your your den of dwell.
Tending the fireplace,
You let me in, and i incinerate you to the depths of your coffin.
I would at least...
Now i don't know.
I would't know now if i could trust you.
There's just too much of it.
Fire; ash.
Smothering smoke.

I'd guess 'Kindling hair', that is...