this morning I drove by the house
where a fire was set
the windows were shut
like blind eyes with running mascara
from a flood of tears
on the doorstep was a pile
of stuffed animals
toys for the children
engulfed in the flames of anger
offered by neighbors saddened
by the soot and sorrow and silence
a boyfriend, with "friend" being questionable,
released from prison for crimes of violence
came back to stalk and spew forth anger
from a strangled childhood
he lit a fire for a mother
and her sleeping children
a fire that would not burn away
the wood around his heart
the scales on his vision
but rather consumed
the sleeping occupants
of the house
leaving only
soot and ashes
and blind eyes
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