My fists are tired of fighting the deluge of rationalities and my eyes have stared daggers too sharp for me to feel the scars. But the blood flows ever on, and it rages and it burns and it screams. I cannot let my anger paint my life in red and in wrath, and I cannot let my wrongs be the reason I feel I am right. So I promise, I will not let the fire burn through me anymore.
I had to lay down my arms one day.
I have caged all my monsters and now I keep them in the boxes underneath my bed. These are the words I have used to cage them.