The Spark

The spark of one

Became the flame of many

Trailing through city to city

Clouded eyes, unjust hearts

This type of blaze is a painful art

One by one the trees burn down

Unable to survive what home has become

The turning of the winds determine the fate

Of a nation, of a race

Come whatever may

The stories of many will lay

In the piles of ashes

That began with a spark


This poem is about: 
My country


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