Fiery Pencil

Fire in my pencil, hotter than the infernos of hell,The pages soon seared by a just spell.My words must be feared, like devils among us;Fire burning as deep as Darvaza,Much like the sorrow-filled streets of Gaza,Let’s enthral evil in the commotion.

As I write, flick of the wristMozart like bliss.Justice, an artTo thwart, destroy, and conquer.Scribbles cast in iron,Conviction sky-high.When these truths hit ears,Enemies must tremble,Awaiting harvest by my fiery pencil. My lead will pierce souls,Transcend nations of lulled populations.Should've, could've, would’veResponsible is he who remains silent,Conscience ablaze, yet seemingly unfazed.

We must vanquish mountains of bureaucracy,Littered with hypocrisy,Treacherous terrain.But am I insane?For I shall not fear mere evil.

History, thy great equalizer,Demons now marked by a toothbrush mustache.I could etch millions of taches on the faces of evil,Exposing their twisted souls with my pencil.My wand tingles, spindles, contorts perception,But we need flaming, stick on mustaches, glued with molten lava,To reduce monsters to ashes.With their ashes and bones, I shall write.

I’m inferno-fueled, all cylinders firing,My lead smoking like the barrel of a .45.These months won't feel aliveWhen the wrath of my pencil penetrates the darkest souls.

So much to write, yet we cannot igniteWhile hiding in shadows.That’s all for tonight, sleep tight until I bite.

And bite I will. My pace relentless,My appetite festers like the hottest flame.Sharpened, I wait, graphite is your fate,And by the grace of God, evil shall rot.Relent, I cannot.