Rusted Gold

Birthed from a flame,

Carved by a tinted silhouette,

Encapsulates a woman who exclaims;

To fall outside the mechanical marionette,

Is but a blessing to this small figurette.

As her copper-painted nails swing up high,

Her anthem refracts off the golden sunlight,

To be queer is to be different,

But alas, human all the same.

Her amber hair drapes along her eyelashes,

Dancing in waves on porcelain skin,

Originating from the ashes.

Glistening with bronze, yellow, and gold,

Lays bare a colorized phoenix,

She lights the paths of those with stories untold.

As Spartans march against the odds,

Pumping swords on battle-ridden shields,

So does she, no matter the costs,

As her bisexuality is unconcealed,

And her essence, revealed.

Under the gaze of the butterscotch sun,

Her azure eyes remain forward,

Set on the mahogany,

Of the horizon.