A poem-not-poem I wrote

Set off the firecrackers, watch them swirl
Changing colours, winding with no direction
Bright stars hover above, staring down intently

Hollow love, masking a deceitful lie
The light sparkle of damp grass
Spinning, spinning, spinning

Fireworks, setting into overdrive
Deafening, intoxicating blurred lines
Players rejoice in a game of hurtful fiction

Wailing sounds behind the fence
Raised heartbeats scatter jumbled thoughts
And the bright stars and the moon stare with an uninterested peek

Cracked bottles
Burning throat
Hurting mind
Broken spirit

The taste of deceit rests in the stomachs of the damned.