It was a pleasure to burn.
It was a special pleasure to see things eaten, to see things blackened and changed.
The fire is more human than we.
It sees no color no race,
Everyone receives the same fate.
It sees no less value in socks and towels than diamonds or jewels,
Everything receives the same fate.
Even as memories burn it doesn't slow down,
Moves on until there's nothing left.
And when it has finally eaten its fill,
It doesn't complain or ask for more,
Its slips away quietly, satisfied.
Published by Garbloom
I am currently in school and is interested in making some quick cash doing something I enjoy, writing View profile
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