Turn and start walking,
I don’t feel like talking.
I’ve had enough of it,
Enough of your shit.
Turn and start walking.

Rage

I’m the anger in your life, the grip on your knife.
I’m the hate in your stare, your murderous glare.
I’m the punch of your fist, the slit on your wrist.
I’m the power you demand, the gun in your hand.
I’m his… I’m her… I’m their… I’m your… RAGE!

My life’s been on the road to hell,
I’ve been burned alive inside.
No matter where I turned to run,
There was nowhere left to hide.
So I stab this knife deep in my heart,
And leave it there to stay.
And maybe by the time I die,
It’ll bleed the pain away.

(Note: This is of no reflection to how I was or am feeling. It just came to me for no apparent reason.)