The Bonfire

I am tied by my tongue,
I am held back with reservation.
For to say what I think,
will no doubt need an explanation.

And I fear I cannot give,
what you wish for, what you need.
So I cover my inner dwellings,
on a dose of silence I must feed.

For my word is like the splinter,
once thrown on glowing coal,
could spark up a bonfire,
made of my heart and of my soul.