There's one saying I have always loved
"Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned."
I was the woman scorned
And hell was no comparison to my rage
The rage was a low flame
A ticking explosive
It slowly built up
The timer went down
And then it started
No amount of water could have put out the flames of my rage
No wall was left standing after the burst
The burning shrapnel touched everything
What he had built was blown away in fiery bits
My rage consumes every bit of me
Whatever it came upon, the rage replaced with its own twisted creation
I became rage
And rage became me
I let everyone know of what had happened
It was clear in the sneers, the verbal stabs, and the proclaimed hatred
And so I stood there burning away your water and your wind
The quote "Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned" was my mantra
The rage was my life
YOU ARE READING
The Beginning Of The End
Khoa học viễn tưởngThis is going to be a bunch of shitty poems and summaries that I write to cope with my life and the fact what could have been didn't. Maybe then when the end comes it won't hurt. THESE AREN'T EDITED. THESE ARE LATE NIGHT POEMS MEANT TO CLEAR MY MIN...
