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I also write poetry. I prolly write more poetry than anything else really.
Anger is easy to feel.
Easier to manage than abandonment,
Easier to manage than bitter disappointment,
Easier to manage than crippling despair.
It is so easy to feel fiery fury,
And expect justice to soothe those flames.
It is so easy to be in denial
To cling to it.
To let it have you think things can be different,
That it can be better.
If only you are are angry enough,
Passionate enough to command change in every facet of the universe.
So yes, anger is easy.
Easy to swallow,
Easy to let burn,
Easy to pull out and use as a shield.
It is easy as it is empty.
Fruitless in its gains
Barren in its answers
A tempting, hellish, warm, void for the lost who cannot deal with the cold, unfeeling nature of life.
And yet to embrace life as frigid is to surrender.
It is to resign yourself to a dreary, insipid existence,
An existence of the same ruthless, unwavering pain.
Rage cannot change circumstance,
But submission will yield no revolution.
Be enraged,
Angry,
Pissed,
Fucking furious.
For you burn bright as you do, if only for yourself.
Be weary and disillusioned when there is nothing left but Death’s waiting hand,
Be weary and disillusioned when you can do no more.
Yield your rage when there is nothing left to burn.
It is easy to be angry.
Easier than holding expectations,
Easier than nobility,
Easier than infinite patience.
And for peace, it is just.