In the end, it was just me
The fire had settled
The world as I knew it had burned
So, I used the ashes to paint my future
I used it to paint my walls
I showed the world
I beckoned with a crooked finger
This is where I came from i say gesturing with a broken hand
But like a museum, it's just to look at it
And I, the owner, the collector of my past's artifacts, rarely visit