Pushed
Flowers loomed into a molded doom.
Cursed like a dark room.
Swept up ashes with a broom.
And lying ill less is a groom.
Angry as a bull and raged like a killer.
Cocooned like a caterpillar.
Swept with madness like the darkening day that turns night.
Ready to do right,
but guided to fight.
And flames explode into a ball of bright lights.
Written By: C. N. Young
