A Beautiful Lie.

Fire continues to ruin the crops,  
as she sits by the farms,
restless and dazed.
Devoid of what comes with feelings.
Those things, she says, cannot touch her,
for she is on a higher ground.
The farm watches the crops turn a shade brighter.
Its red and she likes that colour.

"Kill the mud.. kill the mud,
fire fire," she says.
Running up and down and about she sees ants that want to live.
What a waste of breath ,darlings, she says.
The leader of the ants isn't pleased to see her but what with all the fire,
she is a beautiful creation of the lord almighty,
or so they'd like to believe.

Harder and harder and harder, she laughs,
and in her spirit the silence of the flames.
She turns around to see the disaster ,up close and personal.
With a hard earned sigh she thanks the god of ironies,
For lighting the world on fire.
(And letting her watch from the very first seat.)

Her face seems slightly torched.
The kinda orange you don't want to eat.
Turns brown and then purple it gets,
And every shade the darker, the more tired its owner seems ,
with the weight of all she had seen.

Lie down, 
No. Deeper, she says.
While the fire soaks her skin, she smiles.
It hurts . Why! A wonderful feeling.