The words are my ammunition
I have gone to war with all
That is in color, in flames
Until everything is nothing and
Out of that ash I will keep on
Exploding onto paper because
Within these lines is whatever
My shell is composed of
The tiny intention in my creation

A yellow haired phoenix, the guerrilla
With a simple cause, one that has me
Scarred and jaded and exhausted
There is nothing that will stop
The recurrence of what needs to be
Out of pits of ash I will continue to
Rise and birth and kill and be born
Over and over