what were you?

were you a poem, like me?
or a collection of colors,
mashed into something distasteful?
were you a collection of code,
strings and variables,
waiting for the right moment
to strike?

perhaps you were created with anger;
sorrow, or jealousy
designed to hurt
born in a fiery rage of vitriol
directed at one, more, or all

your grave lies among thousands like you
but you're gone now
and you can't hurt anyone
anymore