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The Arsonist

Will they pay tribute?

Gaze upon what I have built.
 
Tired are the hands of its creator.
 
Distant are memories of past glory.
 
Nieve youth bares the torch.
 
Still holding the flint to the flame.
 
Do they wonder who holds the match?
 
Will they pay tribute?
 
Honor the creator.
 
He’s the arsonist.

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