Wrath Marches
Burning rage,
Seething hatred,
Blazing for seemingly no reason
Flames exude, warding off
The fearful souls around
They scatter, having known
Such inexhaustible fury
Time and time again
They know better
Than to remain in the line of fire
As Wrath marches,
Razing through concrete jungles
And countryside plains,
Screams of pain erupt,
Filling the thick, smoky air
Fighting a pointless, but personal war,
Destruction wrought, lives lost
Wrath is feared by all
grapes of ___
I did not know
I had the capacity to feel wrath
until I experienced you,
my friend.
The weight put on my shoulders
pulled me down until not even
my dreams flew.
My body only knew three states:
utter numbness, searing pain, or electrifying anger.
One thing you did not realize,
was that weight pressing down make the atoms
conform to the container;
the smaller the container, the faster the atoms will go.
You may have pressed me down, but my
rage burns through my body
until not even my voice and false
bravado can hide the anger you have
put me through.
I will find a way to make you pay.
If not now,
someday.
I will be waiting
It Consumes
Fire and brimstone in her fury filled gaze
Burning her enemies, forever scarred.
She dances around the ashes and blaze,
A wicked smile bears teeth, her face unmarred.
Death abounds, surrounds, holds her in its maze.
A game she thought to play, leaves her in shards.
For Wrath creates victims, ripping out hearts.
Lives left damaged, long after it departs.