The Fires
They Are A-Blazin'

This is a poem
Long overdue
Like those library books you stole
Those warped blues records you buried
Just to prove that cancer is a killer
I am a death threat

You live like a storm
Fading to frames of a disaster film
Buried so deep into the wet sand
I miss you more every day
Even if my hands are tied to debts
Electrical fires of accidental love
The winds of changing guard

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