• Rage, a birth defect,
    it worsens with each breath I breath,
    I breath with regret.
    I try and wash my hands,
    free of all disdain,
    a maniacal feel had taken control,
    I no longer felt such vengeful distaste.
    The razor was there on the opaque sink,
    the fear of death was temporarily unseen,
    I wasn't afraid of anything
    I just wanted the emotions to flee.
    Pain succumbed to an ocean of tears,
    an endless shiver ran down my spine,
    I cleansed my soul of all the rage
    as it emerged from my bleeding wounds
    until my birth defect had washed away.