The Burning Home

-The Burning Home-
by
Keaton Foster



Scream
Oh dream
Nightmare
Made true
By youth
I did it
No regrets
Not a damn one
I was forced
Kindling
Waiting to be lit
The fuel
A toxic stew
Of terrible truths
Between me
And absolute darkness
I had to burn it away
Bring the light of day
Into the depths of my pain
From quite a young age
I knew that it would be
The only way
That I would be free
Not of what it means
To be part of what was done
But to be free from it
Happening ever again
All who have hurt me are dead
So that I alone can live
A secret kept
A darkness I must lament
No one knows
They are sure that I am nice
Such a docile man
With a heart of gold
They couldn’t be any more wrong
I have no heart
No capability to love
An emotional void
Filled with a weighted nothing
I play foolish game
They play right along
I am just as incapable
As I have always been
The burning home
Is where I once lived
Where I grew up
And where all that once
Made me human died
In a dream I can still see
The epic flames of such forced change
For me and those who were inside
I alone set fire to the fuel
That would burn far beyond all control
They never stood a chance
From creatures to dust
From monsters to ashes on the wind
There would be nothing left
Their screams wake me
Long before the end
Of their begging to be
Put out of their misery
The misery that comes
With being burnt to death
Each night that finds me
I see them
I am further made aware
I know of all that I’ve done
But equally more importantly
I remember all that they had done
Justice was served
If there is such a thing as justice
For people like them
As well as for a person like me…




The Burning Home
Written by Keaton Foster Copyright © 2012.