Arson

One of my newest poems, my style is very poor right now but medication forces it upon me

Arson

As the flame touches the photographs of the mind,

it struggles to maintain the reminiscence of an earlier perfection.

Questioning it's purpose for destruction,

in an order to save the heart,

but imprison the soul.

Deep beneath the human image of perfection,

a single pain reaches far enough to become infallible fear.

A numbness to everything,

from a life ordained,

and a tornado who had every intention of building a monastery.

Regret, Consequence, and Destruction,

is all that follows after the Polaroids appear.

Yet in the ashes,

it was a perfection that could never be understood.

For freedom is only an entertaining fallacy,

and in it's true capture,

the price remains ultimate.

Feeling,

becomes not only the greatest pursuit,

but the quickest way to persecution and insanity.

Living outside the means of ordinary detachment.

The mind is no longer delusional,

yet the endless stretch of time leaves fate meaningful.

The flame is withdrawn.

An attempt,

or rather heroism to save misguided childhood dreams.

Pain without responsibility,

words with honest intentions,

and a glimmer in the eyes strong enough to love.

A shine that now only stands for incineration.

Reclaiming precedent without the need for conscience.

A name without a history,

an ability to die a clean soul,

and the ignorance to fall into rank.

Lust and lies begin to burn,

everything in between starts to fade.

If it shall burn,

all that remain will be nothing.

As the flame touches the photographs of the mind,

it struggles to maintain the reminiscence of an earlier perfection.

A new snapshot is taken.

Everything burns just to be something,

just to feel more than this.

And if the soul shall burn forever,

at least the photographs will remain,

reminding that there were reasons to suffer.

-Hollywood