The Flame
The flames lick the fire
with a hot sinful desire,
They rise into the night
Ready to take on a enchanted flight,
As the wood cries alone
And starts to take on a chard tone,
I can hear the names of my friends
Clawing at the hot brimstone again,
The light keeps the darkness at bay
And a phoenix rises up from the shame,
The flames are rising higher and higher
As the wood becomes the flames attire,
The wood screams out its pain and mumbles
A ancient name as the cremation is complete..
Inkmaster…………….
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