Funny Fire.

It's bright and smells funny,

as the hut crumbles down in a hurry.

There are shouts in my name,

but I'm going. What a shame.

The room is dark and smells new,

different from the one I was raised and knew.

As the candles set ablaze,

on the moment I was cleared of the haze,

a voice of muffled prayer

gathered the souls in the air.

Found among the lost and lonely,

a boy of my age seemed holy.

He was smiling as he told his end,

where he was left on his own to fend.

As I looked at his unforgettable eyes,

it held something related to my demise.

They showed me what was below,

the men gathered in woe.

They were getting ready to be thrown,

yet looked unaware of what was known.

Something I've seen before was shown to me,

when I kept finding it to be funny.

I kept laughing, each and every

vision of mine was new to my memory.

Yet it was familiar in a sense,

a fire cleansing in essence.

And I was still laughing when,

the image turned to burning men.