Fury, Galin Todorov


And so we hate, And so we hate
Through darkest fears we endure the weight.
Alone, alone, and thus together –
We burn, we yearn! Still, it stands a painful endeavour.

In hate we feel that dreadful call;
The chime of combat, a sword to draw.
It steals our judgement, hah, what gall!
In view there stands another flaw.

Like that, a seething rage of new
would replace the dawn, and then its dew;
the skies – made so everblue –
would soon adopt a darker hue.

But was that truly never known?
I ask you now – a question thrown.
For what was there, to glare with flare
you sought to vanquish, not to bear.

A seething anger, seething rage!
A march towards a fatal stage!
You stride with traction, you cling to action
The mark is clear, the urge austere!
You grab the shear – there is no fear!

Do it! Do it! Be sincere!
You know the plan; just adhere!
Just a strike and it’ll disappear!
Again, again! Your freedom’s near!

And yet… Regardless of infraction,
There was never any lasting satisfaction…



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