There is oblivion. There is space.
There is futility. There is ubiquity.
There is pride. There is defeat.
There is emptiness. There is resentment.
There is darkness. There is rage.

The cacophony drowns all exaggeration.
It leaves no pity, offers no fight.

There is fury, it is black.
There is fury, it does not ****.
There is fury, it showers no wrath.
It rots, it stays, it rots some more.

There is hope. Hope is dying.
It bleeds away, a crimson trail.
The fury is poison, it will prevail.

Morbid humour, judicious hate.
Delightful anguish, dusty slate.
The mirror lets me walk away.