Burn like cinders

He could only watch as their house burned like cinders. He cried tears that had no rhythm. It flowed in never-ending streams as he dropped to his knees at the helplessness of the situation. Gone, they are all gone. Whatever tangible memories he had went up in smokes, billowing in malicious shades of grey. No thoughts passed- it all seemed rather surreal. So surreal in fact that everything else moved in slow-motion. The flames mocked him as they danced on every last remaining debris. They danced to the poem his mother used to sing to him. He heard it clearly, a requiem for his loss.

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