Flaming Déjà vu

-Flaming Déjà vu-
by
Keaton Foster



When I was twelve
I gave this world hell
I set it ablaze
Burning down
All that I hated
All that stood as a reminder
All that carried the load
Of what happened to me
At that time in my life
I did what I was sure I must
Right and wrong played no part
I have no regrets
Not a damn one
I poured out the fuel
I held the flame
With ease, I let it go
The inferno did grow
Consuming all light
And more importantly
Every ounce of blackness
Reducing what should have been
A safe place to ashes of the wind
Flaming Déjà vu is all that is left
When I see a flame
Regardless of size and shape
Regardless of velocity or ferocity
My once vacant emotions stir
The blackness of what I've done
Comes full bear
The smell and toxic remnants
Of something consumed
Easily transports me back
To that place and time
No one died that night
No one gave their life
In the destruction of my plight
Happenstance stepped in
Saving everyone but me
I was concerned least of all
I should have significant guilt
But I certainly seem as if I do not
The building that I raised to the ground
Was the site of the many times
When I was held down
And molested free of all
The innocents I once screamed
A brick and wooden prison
A monumental encampment
Of all that I could not fight against
I had to destroy it
I had to lay waste to its bones
So that never again could another
Be so horribly abused within its walls
I stand by what I did
And if I had the chance again
I would simply use more fuel
More flame
If I would have been caught
They would have understood
And if they didn't
I would have gladly paid for
The destruction of such an abode
By the time that I was twelve
I had already been serving time
In a prison without locked doors or bars
In such a prison
Were convicts that I called parents
I did what I did out of need
I did what I did out of anger
I did what I did out of hate
Not for that old building
But for all that happened with its walls
It had to burn so that I could live
It had to burn so that I could erase it
From the landscape of a home
That after that day never belonged
To me or my jailers again
They are now dead
Age claimed their lives
I am still very much alive
I am still doing time
Living with all that was done
If and when for a second I forget
The flicker of even the smallest flame
Brings me back to that place
And all that I did to escape
And erase it from the scenery
Of a life that never felt like home…


Flaming Déjà vu
Written by Keaton Foster Copyright © 2012.