all that you hold dear

was birthed right here,

dwelling of endless histories,

a torch leading you home

        or a beacon,

	warning.

when does a glow become scorching?



an institution built on greed 

was never meant to last;

        take, take, take until

        there’s nothing left and

        you choke on the smoke you create.

prison of all knowledge, relentless thief,

an empire destined to fall –

sometimes paper is nothing but a source of ignition. 

sometimes when you can’t spread your wings,

all that’s left to do is

	burn 

	down

	the nest. 

[CONTINUE.]