Tuesday, November 10, 2009

You'd think the Spanish would understand Spanish....

Flames lick the oxygen-filled air.
The ominous sound of fire creates panic.
It smells like disaster,
And burns like a bitch.
He keeps on running,
From pain and bad memories.
The fire grows bigger,
And waves to him as he turns around for a glance.
Burn, burn, the bastard burns.

All the way to the ground.

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