Wrath

Paralyzed in torment the body lies still

Mixing and churning the insides at will

Calculating nerves spreading necessities

Everlasting more, growing these intensities

The scourge of torture do their work

Undressing the soul at maximum torque

Until blackness devours every last fibre

And consuming anger becomes subscriber

 

It peels, it stings, it aches, it rings,

 

This cancer that is taking my red pump

Must end now, it must form the stump

Of the tree that killed me, my former self

And placed all my riches up on that shelf

That can never be reached nor ever be sold

This goddamn place! This goddamn cold!

I am condemned by you, you savage, you fiend!

I am dirt in a place that can never be cleaned

 

Reviews

[ImperialTroll]

Very well written and it flows quickly through the mind and its rage stings the evil feelings inside. Truly great.

[Nick Patrick]

Thank you, I'm glad you liked it!

[bluesman]

I loved the emotion in the poem and it describes the feeling of wrath. Great poem!

[Nick Patrick]

Thank you!