Sleeping with Rage

I wasn’t looking for rage, but it found me.
Crept in while I slept, peaceful, unbound, free.
It gently touched my shoulder, said, “Wake up, sleepyhead,”
And when I opened my eyes, only rage lay in my bed.

It leaned in close and kissed me slow,
Then swallowed me whole from head to toe.
Since that day, I’ve walked with rage in tow...
It doesn’t know the words “take it slow.”

Say “settle down,” and it hears “burn it all.”
I can’t outrun it, no matter how far I crawl.
The reason for rage lives deep in my stare;
I’ve grown silent, but it still seethes there.

Years it took to bite my tongue,
Now rage has taught me a different song.
Dark and violent, not by choice...
But by the silence that stole my voice.

This rage was birthed by men with greed,
Who thought my body theirs to feed.
Men who pried me open with brutal hands,
Taking love like it was a demand.

Made me scream, made me cry,
Wiped my tears with what they left inside.
I mistook it for love... but it was rot,
Horror dressed in heat, love it was not.

So rage consumed me, and the books I wrote faded,
Now I act on impulse... sharp and jaded.
Nowhere to look but deep within...
Before rage drags me back again.

No... wait. I’m wrong.
I’ve been in hell all along.
But rage taught me how to set the world aflame,
To cast off shame, and forget my name.

So ask yourself...
Do you dare stoke this fire?
Or think it will flicker out, just tire?
The dark gods laugh—they know the route:
It swallows whole and spits nothing out.

Stay away. Don’t look back.
I’ve burned bridges with myself on them, and stayed intact.
I am no longer foe to rage...
We are lovers now, fierce and un-caged.

We fuck at dusk in a room full of smoke,
Rise at dawn with no hearts to poke.
No apologies, no fucks to give...
This is how I burn and live.