RMC

Mystics of pyros cast Persian spells
to quench their throats after paving their hells.

Fire it can spring forth from the lips
that bright glow out at me and rip.

Cascade me and consume my entire moon,
the same spells have held over many tombs.

You want to explode in your mood
to exude how you felt in a moment rude.

Temperament and sentiment collide
to side with the devil and our pride.

I will walk away as you spit fire and cry,
it’s how I learned you hide.