Victim of the Fire

My cleanliness is not worth

The life of a man

Even one whose I am not

Familiar with

His weakness reminds me of my strength

His misfortune is a reminder of my luck

The chaos before me

Is art to my wicked eyes

An offering of a story to tell

A moment to keep in time

The man of kindness and bravery

Another of unluck and a limp body

Colored robes hurriedly mixing

Paint, splattered on a canvas

The fire began unnoticed

An artist, not yet recognized

No longer contained,

Lives become endangered

Mothers worried about their children

Children worried about themselves

Citizens worried about others

In the rush, it is only sensible

To worry about yourself first

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