Hateful cries of frustration and rage,
put the flame beneath the eyes.
But how could a spark leave at it's birth,
only to turn around and start a blaze.
to cut up it's maker's path,
to start it's pain.
But at the same instance the spark's plan came alive,
a flood breathed by.
As the last light fades during the night,
the spark's maker dies from the water's idiotic dare.
But if only the water had known what trouble it woudl cause,
Would it still be as brave to do all that's right?
would it swallow the flame,
thus distoring all sight?
And now the darkness seeps to the skin.
The cold brings new tears.
And without the sight,
I'm as blind as before only now it's known.
All this has been shown.
So lie to me what you will,
but remember what i've said.
The water must be be stopped to drink,
to aid.
Don't it all die out with the flames.
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