Wrath

I must take care of my dark thoughts. They rattle in my brain like a snake’s tail, warning me about a provoked attack. Gotta keep them suppressed. Out of sight, out of mind, they say, but these thoughts are never truly out of sight. They linger in the corner of your vision and disappear as soon as you look at them directly. They scratch at your periphery. 

Fear. Anger. Sadness. Negative emotions lie at the bottom of your mind like dirt in a lake. An emotional event such as a death is a rock falling into the lake. It disturbs the disturbed. The dirt rises to the surface in the tumultuous torment and breathes fresh air.

I feel anger, yes, but I let it reside in me. I may have short, quick outbursts, but those are just fleeting moments of incredulity. That subsides. True anger does not. It festers and I’m rotten on the inside. I’ll probably just implode. I’ll become a collapsing star. Either I’ll turn into a black hole, drawing everything into me only to be crushed into nothing. Or I’ll go nova, incinerating those around me.

I don’t know when it will happen. Perhaps I’ll be defused by something or someone. Times ticking away, though, counting down from an imaginary number. When it reaches zero…

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