As the fire grew hungry before my eyes, my hand lay outstretched above me, gripping the flag of the rebellion. It danced in the smoke; the smoke of my enemies. Miscellaneous shadows flashed in the flames of those who once were, flaunting its ignorance and pride with shades of orange and yellow. Apocalyptic screams echoed throughout the darkness and my ego laughed with satisfaction. 'Don't be so facetious' I thought, as I wiped the sweat from my brow, tears forming in my lackluster eyes.
I was thirsty for more. WE were thirsty for more.
The audience bowed their heads with respect and plea, for they knew we had won the war. Hell, even the trees were retreating into their forest. Fear in their hearts, fear that I inflicted. I've never been one for self blame, but when you have to push people out the way of your life long dreams, one only feels pity on their poor worthless souls. But what do I care, I have the whole world under my feet now.
I think back to my family, those lowlives I called my heroes. The pain caused being thrown into the fire under my nose. Devastation by revenge, revenge by past.
Mamma always said never to fight fire with fire,
But she ain't say a word about gasoline.
YOU ARE READING
Descriptive boldness
Poetryhere's where the question 'is she ok?' comes into play. see here a little collection of all the descriptions and mini-stories i write in my free time as well as in school. enjoyyyyy. Eris xx
