a fake fire

and how it warms, when love is not in their eyes only greed still, heat comes about, a flood, a dam broken down a something lost a flood, fire intense my world no longer poor for i too am human, am i not? and warmth keeps me in the sane room, no longer a misfit where the good people throw their crumbs for rats do not get to choose. still i rather be an eagle, you know, of course you do for how i see, how you see not when the gift is given and contempt lies within what was so easily yours something you never did earn. or earn you did, on a cursed fountain still spewing forth … a million wicked lies! lucy sobs i hope you are happy now.