Questioning Again

Writing,
a blood code.
Manipulating the taint.

Path,
towards the violence,
had the tribal instinct.

Scent,
of testosterone,
was the key thread.

You,
will not know, what
I conceive of the coming onslaught.

Constellation,
was ready to strike.
I am not myself today.

O, life, we will never know each other.