Beauty in Flames at Such a Young Age
A Poem
The three story thrift store
Burned
In the south
I was eight maybe
When we’d go
Every Sunday and buy
dead people’s items left behind
Or used items would be
a nicer way to say it
There was no stairs in the entire building
Just wheel chair ramps
The higher you went
The older and less valuable
Items became
Sunday night was when I saw it
Roaring out the windows of golden crimson flames
Trying to escape and expand with the air
I was passing by in the van with
my mother and grandmother
I sat in the back and looked in awe
Fire fighters filled the street
Directing traffic but no one wanted to move
They were as shell shocked as me
It was beautiful as the building cried flames
We were on our way to T.J’s Burgers for dinner
We could not pass though
Everyone including me were all frozen
The whole sky or space around us just glowed orange
Orange flickering flames around us like a massive bonfire
We were stuck there
Stuck there to witness
The ugliest building in the south burn in a beautiful glory of flames
It was the first time id seen a fire that huge
So hot as well when the wind blew its radiant heat towards us
It become beautiful
It brought out the pyromania in me
I was taken by its beauty
For weeks
I was burning stuff
With lighters I stole from my aunt’s cigarettes
I burned news paper’s
Trash, grass, hair, anything that would catch
I wanted to reenact the beauty from the building on flames
I needed to see it again, memory was not enough
I tried to go bigger
I lit my aunts curtains on fire
From the bottom
I watched as it grew
From a small flame to it was half way up in flames
Close to burning my own grandmothers house
I tried to stop it but knew nothing about the dangers
Of fire
It was beyond me
I ran and got water but nothing stopped it
My blood was rushing the same way as I watched the building burn
I grabbed the curtain from the rail and pulled it down
I began smashing it with my shoes
No one was home
The flame died as I stomped it viciously
It calmed my eight-year-old self down
Hid the curtain and aired the house
Continued watching my cartoons
And thought about the fire
Maybe memory was enough I thought to myself
Fire was to dangerous and uncontrollable
I never started one again
Not in the house at least
About the Creator
Charles Wood
Instagram: @depersonalisation_
Write what you feel, even if it doesn't make sense.
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