A peaceful form of humanity will with cursing word lament that word and all the heavy sorrows it brings to both self imposed and otherwise projectile wrath upon less worthy to be stained.
Now remove the blinkered frames of one more blessed:
A tempest of tempered hate and all that heavy sorrow will willing drown in gasping screams has no such simplistic curse when the one to lament is that of a person so contained within the biting friction of hate’s chains, no escape in desperate steps to calm a vessel tainted of all the bitterness a wrathful nature will bring to poison the emotional well. As those around wallow luxuriously in regretful apologetic malaise to repent you are the tower of infernal ill intent for which their method of recovery only fuels the inferno of self loathing hell, a twist of emotional perception so cruelly makes that rapturous sting of rage a thing to bring much needed and on knees begged for relief.
A complex labyrinth of reasoned logic in every corrupted vine so chokingly reaching from that fatal word is the origin of what fuels your anger that historically stands as nearly as old as the gods, every fated seed of that vine like intrusion on serene thought is a thing buried in much unwontedly sources of each negatively scorned act cast upon your person in vulnerable age. Unless it was not a thing from without but a more putridly evil act to hath planted that seed in the body you forcible inhabit, so to grow unknowingly an unholy god in the wings of what most would have choice to choose what to play the role of, angel or fallen creature much maligned.
How to deal with an inherit blade of unwanted anti-social edge?
- Strap tight to levels of unbearable pain the mask of something you with much persistently torturing suffering are not, so to placate those around?
- Become the beast born a thousand years more than any force a mind much fractured can ever summon to fight back that which resides within?
- Fight an endless misery of battles upon the ravaged scars of a landscape scarred, in all but another’s cursory glance with light hearted intent, to manage to try to restrain the beast?
If only one could rule under the insidiously persistent issue a singular cure to catch in much willing lust to end what lashes out unfairly and without cause, if only it were so easy as to take a pencil and cast in much pressure a constant line through but one aspect of what makes a person a persona. But when the demon you face is so sewn into the very underlying fabric of what you must with conflicting screams know to be a damned component of the machine labelled with whatever name you were gifted, how to tear a piece of the whole without a resultant unravel of the faithfully resplendent rest.
Some fights I fear are never meant to relent or be laid to rest