Smoke roars out of your mouth

but you’re no mythological creature

You’re muscle fibers and pure rage

as simple as the digits our leaders made you,

but only sometimes.

Other times your callous sigh calls to the poet in me

asking to decorate your voice with more ornaments than the first weddings

to celebrate your existence the way countries celebrate war victories

screams and pride, drinks and cries, stories beneath lies,

o why?

Because inspiration.

Because ***** needing a reason.

Because the moment is justification enough.