The fire kindles, starts to burn-
the wood is wet and smoky sputters
the things that I have yet to learn
My heart is broken but still it yearns
my tongue is clay and barely stutters-
the fire kindles, starts to burn
Every table overturned
turning towers into clutter
the things that I have yet to learn
Nobody's pain is lost or spurned
the broken dove begins to flutter
the fire kindles, starts to burn
A wild fire, grace unearned
the silent breathe and start to mutter
the things that I have yet to learn
I cannot teach or even warn
sourest milk to sweetest butter
the fire kindles, starts to burn
the things that I have yet to learn
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