That force that takes control of your logic.
A slave to its fury.
You created it.
Your conscience frowns.
A simple catalyst forced its presence in your soul.
It now creates your expression.
Your face frowns.
One simple emotion that takes on a face of its own.
It growls at its opponents.
It conforms you to its ways and expression.
You wear a permanent scowl on your heart.
You look at your hands,
You don’t recognize the wrinkles drawn by rage.
You look at your feet,
You can’t see them because they have sank.
Deep into a pit of turmoil.
What do you feel?
Disgust.
Your heart frowns.