Nytheone Matt

The slightest flick of friction trips into a spark
A spark which catches and ignites a flame
The flame starts to burn, starts to learn, starts to earn
The flame smokes, chokes and a fire is awoken
A fire that cooks and roasts the flesh of the unassuming man on the bus
A man who pushes in futility, cusses in humility and pusses in disgust
The flames condense and charge with bolts and auras
It charges and charges and charges and roars
Then blows out the windows and shoots off the doors
The bus in pieces drenched in fire
Which spreads and pours and chases and soars
The floor’s hot lava flooding the city
Hot ash and smoke billow out all around
Buildings are embers, limbs dismembered
Screams, cracks and creaks to never be remembered
The ground opens up to a swallowing hole
This town first, satellites soon follow
City after city tumble into the furnace
All from a slight flick of friction on a bus