Penumbra

Arson! screams the haunted man, as he ignites the match within his hand,
soon the figure erupts in flames before the end of a wink, as the frantic torch becomes a smoldering wick.
To scar into the minds of the plain, injecting personal view into the marble vien, what the heroic will remember as a panoramic tide, time will rename a pyric suicide.
No words to describe this apathym care nothing for noone, dont say jaded, call what you see, a callosed backlash of fate, living beyond misanthropy.