Micro-Poetry #19

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1:

As the final flame dies out,

Vanishes in the cloud of smoke –

Realisation shall take centre-stage,

Heat shall cease

And the heart,

The soul;

Lungs,

Will know:

That it was worth playing with fire.

 

2:

The wilting desire,

Gathering like an army,

Clustering at the spawn of hell-fire

& bearing its wrath among those untainted souls..

 

 

 

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