Kill It With Fire

Burn, burn; everything burns.

Houses, hopes, trees.

In flames, in rage,

In seething silence,

It crushes, consumes, and leaves

Only ashes in its wake,

Fragile flakes of memories,

Reducing love and bodies alike

To anonymous cinders which exist only

To be scattered in the breeze.





You know, some things start out as jokes, and the title for this post did. However, the poem took a more serious tone (which I apologize for on a blog that is supposed to be funny), and I decided to post it anyways. As I have noticed in life this sometimes happens, but I hope you enjoy it anyways.

2 responses

  1. my oh my, i did, i did !!

  2. I like this serious turn–funny how poems so often defy our intentions for them. Thanks so much for following me! 🙂

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