• I stand, then drop, down on one knee,
    I close my eyes, and yet I see.
    It matters not, if it is real.
    What matters is not what I feel.
    The venting is. The way I rant.
    The way I hurt all those I can't,
    I can't just leave, it'd be too much.
    And yet I cause much pain as such.

    What is this thought? Feeling, rather.
    I think and ask, does it matter?
    My hands are clenched, my eyes aflame,
    In sparks I leave, yet still I came.
    The target found, I run right on,
    I run and run, god knows how long,
    I find him, yes, that much I do.
    My fury flows, no thoughts of you.
    For you would stop, my rage at least.
    But I run on, let chaos feast.

    I burn, I rage, I want to die,
    I want to kill, I want to cry.
    And what the ******** is this all for?
    I've never seen such crap before...
    Since when do I just spazz and fight?
    Since when do I 'gain hide the light?
    I do not know, I just rage on.
    I do not care if this is wrong.
    My patience snapped, my world had died.
    Yet I don't think, yet I don't hide,
    from what which killed my peace and mind,
    all that which made me strong, yet kind.

    I want to scream, I want to shout,
    I want to weep, I want to pout,
    I want to hurt, just like before,
    Just grab and throw them to the floor.
    And laugh and laugh, that much I could...
    But what's gone wrong? In flames is wood...
    It burns, it lights, yet falls apart...
    That's it. No more. I shall depart...