i never thought about the hands
that bled to write the words
before my match erased them
i never considered the faces
the quiet ache of their lives
soft prayers pressed into ink
the trembling wrists that dared
to carve truth into brittle paper
my fire stole their whispers
danced on the backs of dreams
it wasn’t flames i held then
it was every untold memory
who am i to mute voices
to decide what light deserves
i burned them thinking of silence
but found myself in the smoke