This is a piece I wrote spontaneously, addressed to my anger.

It was written at a time when I’d just had a war of words with my family, and I was contemplating my overblown reactions to triggers.
I penned this down in rage, sardonically enough, asking Rage to stop pursuing and enticing me, and muddling up the way I emote.
It is all in reference to my involuntary bouts of anger, and how Rage is hellbent on a steamy love affair with me, while all I want, is to set myself free.

Oh, Rage!
Why, why must you love me so?
That my soul’s wings are clipped,
And held captive,
At the unbreachable fortress of Peace?
Why must you hold me so?
That your loving embrace,
Leaves indelible marks,
Of your iron-fisted grip?
Why must you tie me so?
That my heart thrashes around,
Only to lose hope and fall,
Into the bottomless abyss of sleep…

Must you beckon to me,
Each time an unfortunate soul,
Wavers ever so slightly,
From my narrowly defined perception of propriety?

Let’s sit down and have a talk today.
Sit, sweetheart, sit.
We need to talk.
Because you have a crush on me.
I know you do.
No. Don’t you argue with me.
Aren’t you as old as the human civilization?
Or worse, as old as animalistic life?
Then why are you still reveling in these youthful fancies?

Okay, okay, wait.
Not a crush,
An infatuation.
You have those feelings.
The feelings that bewitch one’s heart,
When one is ten and three years old…

Then why, darling, why?
Why are you basking under the blazing sky?
On freshly formed drops of dew…
Harboring feelings about me,
Feelings that entice your manhood,
Tell you to grasp it with vigour,
And jerk it,
Until ephemeral drops of ecstasy,
Satiate your sexual hunger…

While I?
I’m caught in the spasms of inevitable passion,
Shamefully orgasming even during this ignominious rape…
Unable to hate it,
Unable to break free,
How long till you possess another?
How long till I wake up to a morrow,
Where you do not grip me within moments,
Of the first sunray kissing my lips?
Till my underwater volcano metamorphoses into a coral reef?
And I lose and find myself amidst the azure undulations?

Rage, Honey, Listen.
It is time.
You must pour cold water,
On the fire of your loins,
And let me traverse peacefully,
On these thorny, beautiful paths of Life’s rose.
Without roaring at those,
Who’ve been kind enough,
To lend me company,
On this lonely sojourn of Life.

Picture by Aaron Blanco Tejedor (Unsplash)

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