My burning home

I come home to warmth

some would call it

a burning inferno

some would call it hell.

If I'm gone for too long

who will tend to the fire

to the flames

that creates the shadow of men

in Plato's cave.

Plato's been gone too long

he says it's all an illusion

he says there's more out there

than this 2 dimensional life.

I stay anyway

it is my home after all.

My skin is hardened, thick

by the whips of the flames

they seem to be pulling me in

trying to consume me

but I resist from a distance.

The people dance endlessly

on the walls of the cave

I know they are happy

someone is feeding the flames

I cannot let them down.

Who is he to say

my home isn't real

my family isn't real

what does he know

that senile Plato.

I leave the cave

to gather firewood

I keep my head down

while I'm out.

I do it all for the fire

I do it all for the flames.

I am nothing but bones and sinew

my skin has completely burned

charred beyond repair.

I am here

tending this fire

my burning inferno

my family my home

going up in flames

the people are dancing

so wildly now

in spite of Plato.