Anger

A heightened sense, a smell of dense,
Acridly perfumed air,
As angrily I look upon,
That beast askew, without a care.

Blood coursing pure, my rage's cure,
Is lost, from out my soul,
Beguiled upon the sense of fear,
Of a predator donning a victim's role.

My hackles raise, a fiery daze,
Engulfs my being all,
As if the fire of Satan has
Me bound, resisting, taut in thrall.

The charry night, this piteous sight,
The scene in wont for more,
I swear that I shan't disappoint,
As it lies, helpless on the floor.

Venomous word, in whisper heard,
"Kill", it courses through my veins,
It locks me down onto the sight,
The maggot, and myself, its bane.

The cut was deep, lulls it to sleep,
Crimson heartbeat, final breath,
The image I adore to see,
Of Peace, of Demise, and of Death.