By Joy Li   

Immersed in scorching sands I lie,
and most uncomely.
The sun sears my skin ever so numbly.

Susurrus voices click their tongues,
lurid, livid, and oh ever so lucid.
Undulating their pitches like raspy winds,
the unseen figures chime their sins.

Fight fire with fire they say,
and make sure they don't live another day.
Submission is failure and ambiguity is submission.
Die before you even think to obey.

And so I light the land ablaze,
hoping to seek the voices' praise.
But all that emerged was further desolation.
Only cool waters can soothe a flame's lust for devastation.

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