Once there was a cloth.
It was pretty and blue
and white and red.
Everyone thought it was grand
because it flew up so high.
It stayed there all the time.
But since it was so high up,
nobody noticed the fabric tearing.
Nobody noticed the stitches failing.
The people just saw the cloth
way up high like it was before.
The people never noticed
that their cloth had become a rag.

Rotting meat lined the walls
of the spot where the crime was committed
Locked from the outside
Shut in as the oil burned,
the smoke engulfing,
the flames consuming the people as they screamed, "Let me out"
but the indentations of the footprints on the door spoke loudest
They spoke of 25 beautiful faces
lost in pursuit of the American Dream.®