A Half-Washed Graffiti Mark

Upon a bathroom wall I propped myself,
all that I am and all I hope to be.
A bet, a risk, a gambit, all or none
and come tomorrow, I'll be, hopefully.

I scrawled a bubbled word to leave my mark,
the tang of sharpie sang a job well done.
Its voice then mixed with smells of putrid fear
And so i left, awaiting Setting Sun.

At once at dawn I happened 'pon the scene.
Though black blood trickled down in flattened spheres,
the evidence of the janitor's rage,
My name still stood in ink. I am still here.