there's comfort in the rage i feel. i know that this rage will never leave. the rage i have controls me. this rage cares for nothing besides the fire i use to ignite it. from the jagged end of my toenails to the calic creased of my head. this rage is my drive. i wish nothing other than to throw the damp broken limbs of you, the one i would once do anything for into the flame pit. just to pull you out by your slowly withering away hair. for me to be the one to reassure you making you fall right back into my trap. rerunning the same act over and over again until you are nothing different from the shell of a person you made me.
