A little while ago, I told a close friend of mine to give me a random picture to base a piece on. I did say any picture, but I didn't expect to see what she sent me. The following image, and free verse poem/writing are meant to work together to tell a story, and I think I got it across adequately. Enjoy!
“Gas tastes foul.”
This single thought runs through my clearing mind.
Peace the ultimate goal, one that needed a boost to find.
A tank of gas and a single match acting on instinct; blind.
We fear death, but are eager for war.
Then in the ashes of fallen “enemies”, we find ourselves seemingly knee deep in endless gore.
Atrocities happen, history takes note: “Never again,” they swore.
Yet here I sit in protest, against history repeating.
The crowd around me grows, in mass meeting.
And before I know, I can feel my opportunity fleeting.
I close my eyes, and watch my reality slipping,
With the match in my hand, and my body dripping.