[A/N: This is dark... I guess...]

Matches

You hear the screams, the shouts of terror from your family.

You see your family running, leaving you to die.

You feel the stab of hurt emanating from your heart.

You smell the sour smell of gasoline.

You watch as a match is lit and tossed to the evil liquid.

You hear the laughing of the killers as the fire draws closer to you.

And me,

I watch, smiling, as I put the matches back in my pocket.