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I Am a Burning Building

I am a burning building,
my bedrooms ablaze,
a labyrinth of smoke and haze.

Silhouettes of the past,
hang in deluding, volatile corridors.

Flame licks the curtains,
whirlwinds of fire in passage ways.

My rooms exploding,
the furniture imploding,
only charred skeletal remains.

My carpet like hot coals,
my floor collapsing into the charcoal pit,
the smouldering abyss.

A library of knowledge,
smoke tails,
holy pages play in hot drafts.

Glass shattered, panes cracked, blinds gone,
reveal the veil of blazing fireballs.

The cool night air,
now rushes in.