People of The Fire

The people of the fire dance in the night,
eating my positions and I think it's not right,
they glow and frolic in the wreckage looking for more to eat,
but they see that I have lost interest and look to take a seat,
they ask me why so and I tell them not,
for you see the things that I have sot,
are meaning less in the light of what was saved,
they lie on their side on the road newly paved,
she's my little sister and I can say,
all those possessions are not worth her play.