Anger is a sword

I’ve never been so angry in my life.
Such intense anger for such an extended period of time.
And I am not, by nature, a person who gets angry often or easily.

I’ve never felt so much hate in my life.
Such intense hatred and for such an extended period of time.
And I am not, by nature, a person who hates anything at all usually, unless it’s in the trivial sense of ‘hating the weather’ or ‘hating being bored or feeling awkward.’ and I’ve certainly never truly hated any person.

It sounds poisonous. It sounds the total opposite of my usual philosophies which always emphasize being positive, giving the benefit of the doubt, seeing from the other’s perspective, live and let live and not sweating the small stuff.

But anger is a sword. Out of control, it can kill indiscriminately. In control, it can win a war, protect loved ones, fight for meaningful causes. It’s only when you are angered by the injustices in the world do you bother to take a stand. Anger can be a powerful tool. And I am so very angry right now.

(I suppose there’s a huge difference between righteous anger and bitter, resentful anger. But people can kill millions of innocents in their ill-directed righteous anger, and petty bitter anger can direct and drive you to battle larger issues. So how much does the source matter?)


Black Heart ATC

Venomous thoughts and poisonous words;
Whom do they prick? Who do they hurt?

“All of you can go fuck yourselves!”
I’m sick of being shot down.
I hate you, I think to myself,
Black anger swirls round and round.

An armour of self protection
from the crap the world can dish out.
Or a more sinister infection?
Could you say, without a doubt?

Stone walls built around you heart
Shield attacks of knives and arrows.
They keep out, keep in or keep apart.
Suffocate prisoners in the gallows.

In my anger,
black venom flows
tendrils worming
into deeper hold

Thorns protruding
A slow rage burns
Which direction?
Yet to learn.

A hardened heart’s no good for joy,
or happiness, laughter or smiles
Soften your heart, that’s the right ploy
Choose love, it’ll be worthwhile.

Yet how many times can you keep turning
the other cheek before it gets sore?
How many times can you keep enduring
getting stabbed and shot once more?

With desire to hurt, hate lashes out
Being angy makes me feel better
But should I be crying “demons, out!”
Rather than indulge in this behaviour?

Venomous wallowing in poisonous muck
Right now I can’t seem to help but do.
In letting them fester, breed and grow
Do I hurt me more than you?