Surviving burning pyrite-era bridges with gasoline can in hand.
Thinking: What have I done? How did it come to this? I fail to understand.
Violent and consuming flames attack…birthing toxic ash, smoke and haze.
Making moments leading to here, a SLOW BURN BORN through the years, weeks and days.
Through the misty carnage, I squint and find you…barely squinting back at me.
Are you remorseful, angry or saddened; or instead, are you filled with glee?

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