That Poisonous Fuel...

about 1 month ago (Edited)

There is no flame, no kind of eager to burn as anger left to grow, there is always that flicker, moment of small fierce, a whisper that ember in the dark quenching that thing within
There is no flame, no kind of eager to burn as anger left to grow, it dances like a restless heart igniting that rage with just a spark of aggravation wanting to act out
There is no flame, no kind of eager to burn as anger left to grow, even a word, a slight fleeting wound yet the flames of heat and sentiment of flames begin to show
There is no flame, no kind of eager to burn as anger left to grow, it gathers fuel from the wounded pride from injustices just being real or twisted from what you wanted to happen…

There is no strength that is so bold and so proud as anger in its rise, it claims its cause like a strong and just yet it blinds the eye like we’re staring at the sun too absorbed
There is no strength that is so bold and so proud as anger in its rise, it stands with our chest out, those fists held tightly believing rage will forge its steel against our bodies
There is no strength that is so bold and so proud as anger in its rise, that force that non can stand against the power sharp enough to feel the grasp slowly piercing you body
There is no strength that is so bold and so proud as anger in its rise, with those burning eyes and those bitter words spoken, it casts all kinds of presentiment to the skies…

There is no fuel so fierce and raw as anger used to hustle along, some claim it that drives them stronger, that anger within gives their lives fire that forces them to be more
There is no fuel so fierce and raw as anger used to hustle along, they wield its heat to shape their path that claims it builds a lifts them higher than their own strength
There is no fuel so fierce and raw as anger used to hustle along, it burns with a purpose, too bright and fast unfelt but leaves them tired just to feed the flame longer
There is no fuel so fierce and raw as anger used to hustle along, yet once the fire burns away, what’s left is that hollow inside, that is barely alive when that rage no longer feeds its flame…

There is no such cure so sharp and true as choosing peace instead, when all the fury’s spent and soon gone, what lingers into that quiet shame as when the world no longer burns
There is no such cure so sharp and true as choosing peace instead, it cuts too deep, it turns on self and eats its own, that whispers doubt into the ear of your choice
There is no such cure so sharp and true as choosing peace instead, that same hot fire you once gave in, now fuels your despair and fear and now all its pride shatters you with scars
There is no such cure so sharp and true as choosing peace instead, for rage will always promise you rage yet kindness, patience and mercy’s hands will carve a future lasting light from anger that burns where love rebuilds- and lifts the heart where fire is just a past that once spread…

Watchwords:
The past may leave its scars, the path ahead is ours to mend
For that rage will promise more rage inside, never leading to that lasting light
When the fire dims, what’s left happens when rage no longer feeds its flame
No kind of foe so cruelly close ad that anger turned within

Here is Tikatarot, who dares you to answer the question, “Who am I?”..

As and will always be reminding you to dream:
“As you are still the Master of your destiny and the maker of your dreams…”

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