Fire
The masses
Did not want us,
Walls built higher
Than the stars themselves.
I saved flame for them,
Cartilage spilled
Across baking
Bricks.
I burnt
Populaces,
Matted shrubs,
Leaves, smouldered,
Fear ablaze against oak.
I want to see the impressions,
The marks of my avenge,
Bleached softly, carved,
A city soiled.
Eternal:
If your village
Does not want me,
I will burn it to the ground.