No Fury


Does it please you to see me writhe?
I see the jubilation in your eyes
As your hand, dominant and possessive,
Comes crashing down on my soul,
Laying waste to my sanity
And usurping my will
To do anything but drop to my knees,
Begging you for a moment of attention.
That smile, punishing and misogynistic,
Envelops my self-esteem and constricts
Until I’m left on the floor weeping;
But you haven’t seen my rage—
Not really.
Yes, you may have seen wild flailings
And heard words caustic and abusive,
But you’ve never seen the demon
Lying within me, dormant until now.
By the god of hell, you will,
And on that day
Evisceration would be a blessing
Compared to the retribution
I will reap upon your body,
Your mind,
Your rotten corpse of a soul.
Every second of suffering
Will be wrought upon you sevenfold
Like he who would slay Cain,
Just as you tried to slay me;
But you failed, and I have risen\
From the ashes of mistake and mistrust
With resuscitated fury:
My weapon, not for some holy cause,
But to exact my revenge on you
And cast your soul
To the seventh circle of hell,
Where the demons will feast
And then discard what remains of you,
Like the disgrace of mankind you are.


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