fond of fire
like a bond; tightly knit
and brightly burned,
until war spreads its fingers
and its light
is the only thing in vision.

scarred red with heavy scowls,
like the moon and its ventures; the sun, and the places touched by its warmth.

home lay in chaos, with corners written in orange,
and walls done in blood.

tear the scape to it's heart,
and poison soil to a grave.