My soul shakes and I feel that ancient rage
It breathes in and out of my lungs
Flowing like the slight breath of smoke
After the first taste of ecstasy
Rage is not black or darkly brooding
Broken and full it burns in my veins
Fought and forced and drawn upon
Like some frigid barefoot army
Strong as I am I wouldn't and couldn't be
If not for the rage that feeds the battle cry
Ragged are the edges of my heart
Wounded, scarred, stitched and ******
All the ties that make me strong burn me
Each strength I gain I lose a little
Thick and festering I feel it flare
Scorched are the remains of what I became
Every scabbing wound you left on me
In my rage is hate, yellow as drowning green
In my rage is strength, slick as steel fencing
In my rage is love, brutal as searing live wood