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