And because I thought it was over,
I burned everything with the setting sun.
I watched the flames lick the letters,
finding them tasty enough to feed on.
Singed edges start to appear,
as the fire crackles merrily on,
and I just watched and watched
wishing that I was being consumed as well.
I have no doubts that this is where we’ll end,
just like paper fed to the flames,
burning brightly, giving off heat,
then slowly dying,
until we’re all but graying ashes
carried away by the wind.

-The Elusive Scribe 081313-

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