In the rages of my poetry, I wanna scream. Fill me up till all I see is enemies. No type of reasoning as to why I feel as hard, talk as passionately, and do nothing but destroy. Like storm clouds gathering, like thunder crackling across the sky, all I feel is rage. No empathy towards calming down, drowning out the voice to let it subside, just my pen and pad, to get me through. In the rages of my poetry, in the heights of my wrath, I pray more for the eye of the storm, than I do the quietness, cause when I'm in that state of mind, sin and possible poverty, is in the works. So, Lord, as these words leave my soul, onto this pad, confine it, and rebuke it in your name, cause it's too much for me."
©gazeldeas
G