LOCK & KEY
Everything has a use, a purpose a will
The sky needs the oceans, a parasite needs a host
A lock needs a key
Without these uses, what will become useless?
Will foundations crumble, or will all be in vain
Every lock needs a key
A seed needs a womb, what can be possible with or without
What happens to a lock without a key, what becomes of a flower with no rain?
What is a reaction with no chain, a cause without effect?
Will nothing make sense, will everything fall through the cracks
Evolve and grow
Does every lock need a key?
The smell of burning flesh is thick in the form of black smoke, ash falling to the ground as if snow. It wraps around my windpipe, I cough, my arm out stretched to the burning building I called home. My right limb remains a blaze; I smack it against the wet dew slicked grass constantly until the specks of red and orange are gone. The pain is unbearable the wind blowing on my injury helps me notice the burnt skin that is pealing off of my arm. Nevertheless I do not care of my arm, the melting and flakey limb. I don't care that I am bleeding and needing more air in order to move. My parents are inside of the burning structure and they haven't emerged victorious from the grip of death as I have!
Everything is hazy and gray, rocks, pebbles and shards of glass embed themselves into my injured forearm as I attempt to move. Adrenaline fueled, I crawl slowly getting closer and closer. I am in complete vertigo but I am determined to reach them, dearest mama and papa. The wet grass under me moistens my pajama top and chin. The dark sky slightly aluminates from the red engulfing my home the stars are no longer visible. I get to the front door forcing my bruised body up to the knob with his hot and burn my left hand when trying to grab it. Strangely I smell rotten eggs, or a heavy odor of gas, I pry the door open and began to step into the fire hearing my mother and father scream at me to go back but I smile to see their faces and hear their voiced unharmed so far. The building my home explodes sending me flying back ward as debris and ash flies into the air and upon me. Laying out stretched the foundation is all that remains, of the building, my home.