Post-Apocalypse

A glass of water to my lips
Clasped tightly, taking a toll,
My eyes closed, as I sip;
Yet, for the first time, in control.

Blocked from the fire that I've caused,
Guarded from the city ablaze,
I embrace support, my life a pause.
I pray it's just a phase.

They tell me of the empathy,
They congratulate me on my fight.
They search for those blameworthy,
Seeking justice for my plight.

But I don't think of those in hiding,
Or the passion of those who care.
I strive to shut out the horrors residing;
Myself I must repair.

The glass of water I have withdrawn
And as they celebrate my progress,
I know I must live, and move on,
For what choice do I possess?