Reddened

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
The feeling of anger.

Submitted: July 20, 2012

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Submitted: July 20, 2012

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It is a fire of an unnatural source
Never to be matched in size or force
I will die before it runs its course.
 
It cannot be soaked, smothered, nor killed
An immortal flame, from birth instilled
And I will die, left unfulfilled.
 
It corrupts my mind, my very soul
Makes me do things, lose control
Burning endlessly, a sinister goal,
I will die before it takes its toll.
 
I can not think, can not breathe
A constant reminder that will not leave
For my thoughts, I constantly seethe
So fierce death can bring no reprieve
 
I am so weak, I crave such power
To deliver you your final hour
The idea of revenge has long gone sour
I only wish to permanently scour
 
You're filth, all filth.


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