RAGE
Beneath the calm, a storm takes flight,
A wildfire born of wrong and slight. Its embers smolder, deep and red, Feeding on words we’ve left unsaid. A pounding drum within the chest, A caged beast longing for unrest. Its claws rake sharp through veils of peace, Demanding justice, demanding release. The air grows thick, the silence thin, A roaring tempest stirs within. It knows no reason, no restraint, A brutal force, unbound, untaint. Like crashing waves on jagged stone, It claims the world as its own. The skies crack open, the heavens weep, For wrath awakened never sleeps. But rage, though fierce, is quick to fade, A fleeting shadow, poorly made. For in its wake, a hollow cries, Echoing loss where fury dies. So tame the beast, or let it go, A choice we make, though we may not know. For rage can scorch or rage can mold, A fire to wield—or to let grow cold.
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AuthorAries | Soccer Fan | Poet | Writer | Love Sunflowers | LGBTQ+ | Entrepreneur Archives
February 2025
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