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The FireShe’s just a little girl in a torn-up dress. She wakes up every morning knowing tomorrow is as today and yesterday,The Fire
As uncertain as both. Even less certain is the promise of shoes on her feet and food in her belly.
A rusty barb wire fence is the only cordon between all of the horrible nothing that she’s ever known, And all of the somethings that she’s left to make up for herself. The philosophers say that the world itself is a matter of what you see, If this is so then I conclude that the world is nothing to see at all.
A tiny creature spewing static and words of a land far away.
by ~santanaclaws
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