A budding writer's collection

The End

There's fire raging in the hallway,

I slipped and fell; it's a pool of vomit,

I ask all the dying walls,

Is it living if you're always fighting to breathe?

The curtain curls, darkened by the flames,

And here I am, down on my knees,

Trying to map the meaning of all those names,

Tear streaks stain me red, and you're saying, "cheese!"

Breaking sweat, is the fever over?

If you say yes, then why all this heat

Blue inside, red outside,

The world goes on, it's glowing on their side

Glasses melt, but do glasses melt, though,

When they're dying from the fire?

No, destruction ain't all that romantic,

It shatters wild, shards all over,

And all people do is try not to walk over

It. 'Cause it will damage you.

It.