(An original poem by Coeur d’un Poète)
Originally posted on Weekly Writing Prompts on June 14th.
Hate. The heat of hurt.
Feel it force through to the heart,
feel it coarse and clog the veins,
feel the fury force on darkened sight.
Without a notion of reason or ration,
the rush so wild and wholly provocating,
it’s the kind of moment so brutally binding,
an experience sure to be regretting.
Unmastered are the minute’s motions
where mystery has mutilated the moment.
Mind is no master of the body’s motions
when murderous impulses have mustered.
The callous purity of this precipitous pounding
pushes the line restraining light from night,
absorbing the belligerents of the arena
in the event to smother them in embarrassment.
Seeing red is the demon in us all,
the drowning feeling that darkens the soul.
Deepen the anger, and you deepen the whole
you dig for yourself at the end of the barrel.
Breathe, let the air take up it’s minute,
your anger isn’t worth the pain unmerited.
The darkness isn’t worth the moment
soon, when you’ll live to regret it.
Cut the hollow flow to the heart,
let the veins cleanse the clogging,
let the calm mind clear the fury
and for reason to return your sanity.
Moments of rage never make the masters
of the most miserable of men.
Let the fear fade from the system,
repatriating love so natural within.