shreds of one's discarded life
in bits and pieces
strewn into a blacked pit ready to burn
where careless bits before them have gone to die
to be forgotten
wasted on energy
a puff of smoke; warmth for the feet
of the careless human
he does not care for last weeks newspaper clippings
the funnies are no longer funny
so now they entertain, warm, and crackle
as they singe and crumple
defeated under the mouth of the hungry match
again he strikes the match on his uncontained life
brimming with loose ends
things that don't matter until they do
then they are pointless
save the use of destroying for advancement
killing, for a greater good
sacrifice, for an added on usefulness
the smoke gets louder to his eye
as he see and smells the potential warmth
but his face does not change
still apathy towards that little piece of life burning slowly
and yet he picks up his latest book and begins to read
how long till he throws its pages into his selfish fire?
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