How long did you consider that lit match between your fingers
before tossing it into the leaves,
and, cartoonlike, it blew up in your face?
I hope it was a long, long
Product of these hell-bound days.
Did you yearn to keep a beacon lit,
or just slash and burn the Foe?
There was no call of "FIRE!" in the theater.
You had every right.
This is America! after all.
The land of insulation, between
word and consequence -
become a nation of flames.
Petty wrongs in the name of "rights"
like children sticking out their tongues at
each other, unmindful of the window between
now cracked and drafty with the times...
But, your rights aside now.
Right and wrong, aside now.
Lost in the firestorm, weren't they all?
For that I'm truly sorry.