Words.

Are there no ends to the tricks you can make words perform?

Monday, May 31, 2010

Aftermath

Nothing more – nothing less
I have nothing else to offer
Upon a fiery pyre
Will it be enough?

Sparks illuminate dead eyes
All unseeing – all unknowing
I watch them leap and die out
In a sooty sky
Will they be forgot?

The smell of oil and wood
Burns my nose – burns my lungs
My skin is crying in the heat
As fallen lives burn out

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