Cinders


A strike in the dark,
An unfamiliar spark,
Crackling through the air,
And all you can do is stair.
As it burns through your mind,
Cindering all you sought to find.

Tearing, grappling, writhing with pain,
Doing all you can to stay sane,
You try to trick your brain.
Knowing you will never be the same.
For what was clean and pure,
Is cankered with grime and manure.

Once seeking to find happiness and joy,
In arms of sins that fracture and destroy,
Now powerless to stop your destruction:
A life without purpose, form, or function.
In a world doomed to never see,
The person you were meant to be.

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