With a world on fire what can I say to the boy who holds out his hat in hopes for change?
Animals seem to know more about love than humans nowadays yet we still hang them by their ankles, slice them in half and call it dinner.
With a world on fire I can’t help but to notice the parts that aren’t.
I can’t help but to spend my life gathering water from my tears in hopes that one day maybe I could be the one to extinguish it.
With a world on fire we can’t help but to notice the sky;
the way the light reflects off the fumes at night.
In a world on fire we adapt to the heat so well we become resistant and don’t notice it at all.
In a world on fire where will the water go?
Where can I put these tears?
What will we offer the boy?
What will the animals drink?