Collin Chattom

The Flame

Flame, igniting the dark of an empty mind.
Our guidance, our freedom..
But once the flame dies,
The smoldering ashes of what once lit the shadows clouds our mind,
Pure fear provoking blind swings at our own evil.
Here we stand interrogating ourselves,
For answers that stand a grain from reach,
The mess we leave egregious,
And what we make of ourselves, a nightmare.

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Poem Submitted: Monday, May 14, 2012

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