The Burning

I hear the women screaming in the distance, but there is little I can do, before the fire consumes them and swallows the village whole.

I often wondered as a boy what it would like to be a hero.

I guess this is one of those times where I should have stepped up and attempted to save them.

My cowardice gets the best of me, as I begin to smell the burning flesh of animals, hay, and people.

The smoke rises in the air, a white plume of death.

I hallucinate from the fumes, thinking it has turned blood red.

My neighbor pulls me away from the wreckage, handing me a surgical mask to protect myself from the toxic stench.

Here lied, a man who cried.

Denied, to try.

And wished to save those who died.

The Dark Place

The lovely bones,
they munch and groan.

We sit and wait.

While Mary mothers march.

The time has come,
to be undone.

The whistling wind,
waits for our reply.

The haunted screams,
the painful burns.

The heart ache,
the blindness.

Everything is nothing.

What is the point,
of this mediocre life?

Once we obtain everything we've strived for,
we're painfully pushed to gain more.

What if there wasn't a light,
but night?

What if you've felt complete?

Then what?

In my own words,
I'm not sure.

I'm surrounded by love,
and material possessions,
but I am certainly ready to die.