The Smoke Inside Your Burning Home Poem by Mark. A Heathcote

The smoke inside your burning home
Can choke and burn your eyes
But still, you can't escape or even cry
Not when you love the bones
Of a man who can't even rise out of bed
To keep his dog and the cat fed.

But he can keep you in your chains
He can keep you aching for a kind word
If he is willing to see your shadow
Burnt away in the doorway
Longing to leave but praying to stay
And be saved by someone you used to know

But know the flames are rising like a river
About to burst their banks
And she's ready to go like a floating raft
With a heavy load, but still with enough
Mercy to sink like a stone
To save one troubled soul if they choose to be saved.

Hmm, the smoke inside is washing through
And those flames glistening blue
They are showing signs; they want to live, not die
But still, he can't escape or even cry
He's too drunk to do what he should
So, it's time to heed the siren and cry

And wave goodbye and watch the flames
The pyre smoke in our eyes falls into silence
But still it hurts, hurts, it hurts
To dance in the flames, holding onto the bedsheets
that hold the ashes of our sorrows
and the journey of our souls when we fell silently into sleep.