Rain fell in sheets as we ran,
drenching us, drowning us.
Lightning struck as the fire started,
water and heat meeting but never stopping.
Even if we die here tonight,
at least we can be assured that we burned them down.
We did the right thing,
even if we burn in our own hell.
YOU ARE READING
Seeking Solace
Poetry"No One Sane writes a novel" "Now you see What's wrong with me." // Chicklit #366 Miscellaneous poems of a never ending sort.
