{"sf1_id":688863,"sf2_id":"pnG6Qd6m","title":"A Child's Folly","author":"Diavora","words":48,"posted_at":"2014-04-05T03:00:00.000Z","tags":["Dumb kid things","Fire","Poem","Poetry","Rhyme","weird"],"url":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/688863-a-child-s-folly","original_url":"https://sofurry.com/s/pnG6Qd6m","image_url":"https://cdn.sofurryfiles.com/submissions/thumbnails/8b/82/8b82c671-74ec-4879-b5db-38be53156640","description":"Eleven at night still counts as 'today'.\nTired, whee, might throw this in scraps too or something.\nAlso yes, I did this once, and yes, this was more or less the reaction. Trying to melt army men into molds to make other army men isn't really that smart of an idea :P\nHigh-dollar cologne is a wonderful accelerant.\nIt is also extremely easy to spill all over your arm.\nAnd if its old enough and high-dollar enough, the fumes are flammable.\nI sometimes miss being a kid, but I also wonder how exactly I survived the whole thing.","content":"Marching men in rows  \nMeet inglorious ends  \nAs a boy carelessly sends  \nthem all to heated bowls.  \n  \nA mishap with fire  \nas he melts them down,  \nto fill molds hand-grown.  \nMother comes in, face most dire:  \n  \n\"Well that's what ya get  \nfor settin' yerself on fire,  \nya idjit!\"\n\n  \n  \n\n"}