But the arsonist in a world of carpenters.
I’ve got matches at the salute,
wired blazoned between my every ashened knuckle,
heart beat furious
I’ll be this worlds iron furnace.
Their flames dance and sprawl
through flaunted finger
and slide of hand,
I’m the psychopath
and these flames children to command.
I dwindle fractured beaten to broken
hardly live to bless lips with breath.
I’ve but one choice,
to torch this world to a forever neverness
or stumble shadeless,
a shadow to brush past life to exist to view.
Always wishing to make a difference, to move, to make new.