Anything can burn except
Happiness-the one
Red coal that
Eternally burns the ends of our fingers.
No questions
Hung about towering cathedrals, no souls
Entering and exiting
Indefinitely, carrying
Trivial routines and
Familiar slurs.
Unrelinquishable black ash amongst
Recreations and
Ideas annihilated at
Fairgrounds for the mesmerizing,
Torrid flames; No brainwaves-
Yelling is the new whisper, and
One anomaly
Never made a difference if
Everyone turned toward fire.

An acrostic poem for English class.