You threw me a life vest
when I was on fire.
Thanks to you,
the flames are reaching
for the horizon.

My situation is dire.
The walls are caving in,
my whole world is enveloped
in flames.

What took so long to build something
as strong as this house,
is now ash and ruins
in a matter of minutes,
seconds in which this place
I loved so dearly and held so close
has surrendered to the
blazing, reckless, undying
violence.

You threw me a life vest
when I was on fire.
Thanks to you,
destruction is the ultimate victor.

The walls are now collapsed,
the beams and boards of the
once sturdy foundation
are crashing down into a sea of
crispy, crackling sparks.

All I can see,
engulfed in the
smoke and screams.

You threw me a life vest
when I was on fire,
but now the inferno has succumbed
to time,
for nothing truly lasts forever.

That sea of sparks
and crackling flames
is remembered as a smoky blur,
one that seems to be clearing up
a little bit,
each
and
every
day.

You threw me a life vest when I was on fire.
And now I wonder
how terrible it really could’ve been.
But if we ever rebuild that house,
I will always remember
to never light that match,

again.