The Burning of a Human Tree

So you think I can breathe,
When gasoline quite stings,
An open wound,
As knife is pressed"
Against my throat.

And who am I to judge"
Your sin, your fault, your flaw.
But now you run,
You run in fear,
And my legs fail to make chase.

As I’m freed from the roll"
Of a lie detector,
For I’ve finished what we started,
I lit the match,
And killed the memories.