tiny sparks. drifting into the night. and as the smoke clouds your lungs, you tell yourself that this is all right. if you just don’t think about it…

about the books going up in flames; precious word by word. let your hopes and dreams slip out of your hands, and onto the cold, hard dirt…

but i have to be dreaming. i have to be imagining this. and any moment now i’ll wake up, but this time…. it’ll be worth it.

beautiful. and perfect. as the birds chirp, and the sky begins to grow. and i am carried forward, by a thousand hands of people i don’t know. but as the heat grows stronger against my cracking cheeks… well, i think it’s pretty obvious how this ends.

but hey. maybe it’s not the worst way to go out. when it comes down to it.