In the dark
I write you a letter
hoping it would reach you

It starts like this:
My beloved,
I love you still

From afar,
but I still love you
as tenderly
as ardently
as ever

I hunger for you
as violently
as madly  
as ever

And I wait

Sight of mine dulled to nothing but red.
My aching fingers bleeding from the splayed out shards of glass.
Time and time again, this feeling will never truly fade.
The destruction that eases into every walk that I take.

The pent up pain that does not soothe
It only comes in waves of doubt and an ache that runs deeply through my body.
I can only sit in silence and wait for it to wash over  as the never-ending wrath bounces in the corners of the room.
No freedom found as I keep myself from lashing out.

My blood keeps dripping around my pooling ire.
To lock up such a monster that laps away at every upset and disappointment
There really is no telling when
The day it stops rocking back and forth the dark curtained bedroom I try to subdue it in.

The day my warm blood no longer satisfies the steely blue light that edges its existence.
And the way it bounces off of the crystal shards coated in crimson beneath my hands.
Alcohol has never truly worked for me as much as I wished it did.
What do I do when there is nothing I can do?

How will I cope when I can no longer keep from being violent?

-Kore

Within me screeches a woman on fire - consumed by a violent rage and doused in a fury like gasoline.

how many protests have you watched now?
how many devolving into riots?
via violent actors, on either side
what was gained, for those we lost?
was it in vain?
did the pay outweigh the cost?
or was our venture defunct?
would civil disobedience had been better sought?
or a more brutal insurrection,
to rival those we've been taught?
just do like they'd wish
and lay down and die