Wrath

Black

Is not my colour.
It is red;
Blood red…

Black is nice,

Calm and understanding
But always,
Misunderstood.

No.

I'm not like that.
I do not care for you
As sweet Black does.

No!

I do not like the dark;
It is far too quiet for me.

No!

I yearn to be heard.
I like to pierce the silence.

Zeus' thunderbolt,

Poseidon's trident,
Hades' staff,
Should be my toys of destruction.

I indulge in pain,

In red-and-orange flame.

The sight of blood

Soothes me,
Caresses me,
Intoxicates me…

I am a prey to pain,

To snares and demonic games.

Yes!
Bury your thoughts,
Hide them in your little shell,
Hide and lock them away,
Till I come for them.

Then,

My hell-hounds will howl,
Break free and roam loose!
No wall or weapon
Can keep them at bay.

People,

They will tear to pieces.
Aye,
And your soul too.

Rage and roar

My wrathful friend,
Rage,
And let nothing hold you back!