Anger.

Red. Red. Red.

Surrounding me, drowning me,

Chest heaving with breathes a many,

Muscles strained by hard clenched fists,

Hatred rolling off of me,

Can’t be seen, but its touch is deadly,

Everything around me has been bleached of color,

And is now crudely dyed with splashes of the deep color of blood,

The better part of me squirms away from the feeling,

Fighting hard,

But soon succumbing to its lingering horse high dominance,

The encompassing wrath takes over,

All my good will and better feelings

My best features turned into my worst.

This ire, this anger seeks freedom,

But its aim is primitively sought,

With a need to hurt oneself or another,

The feeling is cruel,

Turning bright red hearts to charred black stones,

This heartless, insensible stranger,

This seething, this rage, this fury,

This anger.

The End

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