Fire.
A blade of wind hit my cheek,
A deepened violet my skin did turn,
An orange flame my heart did seek,
But h**l released that day to burn.
A brown and green rustle up high,
A white knuckle was scraped,
A pulsing red through a vein,
A woollen head was now capped.
A tarred flooded jungle,
A splash of soles did plop,
A soaked man stood still,
Not one has a solid mop.
A revelation in droves,
A hardened soul now beat,
A heart broken by season,
For want of a glowing hearth.
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