Power

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You hear the hiss, crackle, and roar,
the flames lick the sides of the
house,
growing bigger and stronger,
Your blood pounds in your ears,
Adrenaline fills you with glee,
books start to burn,
you glimpse the title,
then emptiness overcomes you,
a chasm rips thorough your soul,
you entertain ideas of throwing yourself to the flames,
but suddenly a nearly intact book escapes the fire and lands at your feet,
you look up, to see a little girl,
you can't guess her age, she smiles,
and that dusty, poor little girl points to the book,
you look at her smiling, hopeful little face,
you know now what you have to do to free yourself,
from such a bitter, hateful, cruel, and meaningless world.
You bend over, to grab the book,
while pretending to add more fuel to the fire,
your fingertips graze the cover,
then time seems to stop,
you feel amazingly calm, calmer then ever before.
Then the spell is broken,
you hastily grab it, and slip it into your pocket,
You hurriedly check around the scene of the fire,
because if only you could save the lone little girl,
everything would be alright,
but she is gone,

lost,

forever.





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This article has 3 comments. Post your own now!

GPG64 said...
Feb. 19, 2010 at 1:53 pm
451...not as good as this!
 
Jack said...
Jun. 27, 2009 at 11:03 pm
The poet captured the dark view of Bradbury's book. I liked the apparent summary of his story.Bravo.
 
nonie said...
Jun. 27, 2009 at 10:49 pm
Although the poem is dark like Bradbury's book, the poem is interesting and I like it.
 
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