Unintended Consequences
A poem.
A miscalculation, profound in scope,
Of the tarnish on walls
Ingrained by smoke.
It was only to be,
yes, ever so slight—
A temporal blight.
An ephemeral flare...
...scenting the air.
How dare!
This transient flight
turn perpetually finite.
See,
Marks and stains
aren’t meant to remain
If that wasn’t what…
I intended.
