I came home to the house in flames.
Turns out it was made of kindling the whole time.
I cough and choke.
Even though I could smell the smoke for miles,
I still followed it home and found myself surprised at the fire there.
I don't know how to mourn a home.
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Incoherent Thoughts Organized Into Neat Paragraphs
PoetryPretty much what the title says...
