Paranoid Fires

The unknown sets fires, with paranoia as fuel,
and inflames the mind with thoughts of dread.
The heart the misused tool.

The eyes cannot close,
unused to being so open,
too dry for any tears.
But aching from the lights.

Bruised from the fights.

Fingernails stick to the teeth,
blood seeps from renewed wounds,
as the feet lie broken.
Bandaged from the flights.

Yet still they walk toward hope’s blighted tunnel,
and never see clearly what waits around the bend,
always terror driven.
Ever the suspicious fool.