When I rage, I rumble,

cave, and crumble,

slip and stumble,

bleak, I bumble,

like the thunder,

I crash, then clap,

snap, crackle and

POP against the still &

silent night

I slip,

and spew, acidic ash,

then steal the stars right

out from the sky.

I scream, to shriek,

to prey on passersby.

I flash like lightning, with all

my might, I bite, so brightly,

fighting all the blessings in my life.

My ego roars awake, it

makes the ground shake, like

I'm an earthquake, leaving disaster

in its wake, determined

to bruise our beautiful land,

and dehydrate its lakes.

I climb higher, growing stronger—

making marks, and lasting longer.

A tsunami of me, that spares

no sinner, and saves no saint.

Unrelenting, unapologetic for the lives

I'd take. I throw a fit, and let it rip,

and tear apart entire towns.

A sonic boom that blasts and

razes cities, without a sound.

Voracious, when I vanish villages

in overflowing, rivers of venom.

Amplified by the acid that I spit,

ambivalent, as I annihilate the

aggregate with utter arrogance.

These idiots incite more incendiary

ill events, but ammunition-toting armies

of elephants I bring lay them out.

I am villified by my vindictive

variety of vengefulness, that

veers invernal; much

colder than the Arctic air, I

fester frostily, more frigid

than the least inhabitable

regions across the globe.

Going for the gold, I aim

for the throat, jab at the jugular

in jest, cos I am the GOAT.

Ravenous,and rabidly,

I revoke your rights,

Riotous, until you're ragged,

this undesirable ire

can be quite rancid.

It is the pinnacle of

my primeval, animalistic

anger; the apex of a counter-intuitive

need to cause harm and

create danger. Malignant, like

cancer cos it pretends to be

close to me, liks family

although it remains a

a stranger.

A trauma response to taking on

more terror than I could handle,      although I know that I should just          walk away.

Not every turn deserves another,                  I shouldn't bother by responding to every benign insult with a massive attack that creates more grieving mothers.

But somewhere between losing every battle and wreaking havoc by breaking war protocols in wrath, I seem to have forgotten to maintain my calm, and keep some semblance of decorum & class.

Born to break cycles, and chains, and built to outlast. Strong enough to survive, but too brittle not to blast. I persevere through my past, modest, I make waves without splash, 

an outcast because I contrast their forecasts and left 'em aghast. 

Fortune amassed, I'm too fast, enthusiastic iconoclast I lambast when I'm harassed, rewrote their rough drafts and thrashed through their ceilings. Smashed the system, unabashed, cashed bank drafts that rescued me like life rafts.