The lighter drops
It hits the ground with a loud crack
As it topples to the wood
I glance up at the faces around me
They nod their heads up and down
Encouraging me to do it
I feel the fluid splash upon my jeans
I step forward in the circle and reach for my back pocket for the box
As I take out the match I wait for it to grow brighter through my fingertips
As it starts to fade
I drop it and fall to my knees
Its about to go down
Everything is about to burn
And I'm going down with the start of the spark.
Copyright© MyTimeWasYesteday
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The Expressionists
PoetryThey speak. I hear. I breath. He looks. They run. I look away. I turn back. They disappear. I wake up. They are gone. Them and he; are just shadows. -------- The Dreamer CopyRight MyTimeWasYesterday
