A PSA To Spray Painters and Pyros
I set the already hot pink on fire with a candleWax dripped over my finger tips
black tendrils of smoke wisped away from the wick
The blue was scarred but did not burn
Smoke billowed in heaves under the canvas
I stared upward at inverted flames
I promise you that it will be named
I smote the pyre and gazed at the metals of my creation
Through red tear stained eyes set behind wide frames
I watched what had been born from the ashes
my pheonix- a failure in it's past
borne a'new, by flame
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