Tempest

My hands are shaking, the uncontrollable rage wells out, found its voice on the door agitated by the sole of the shoes, like ruthless lavas pouring out, hammering down with great might, like cannonballs flying furiously out of the maddened mouth, striking down the unfortunate lot, its prey, like victims under the fallout, endless and silent storm, a cunning hunter awaits, and attacks when the target is out of its den, with precision, without mercy, and ceases fire only when it is out of sight, leave it to bleed, I have no mouth and I must scream.

Uncontrollable, incomprehensible rage wells out of the depth, where came you this fury? Those who call themselves friends who never even write or, call to say hi, who give a ring on the cell and hang up right away so that you can call them to let them talk to you, who act so friendly and promise so much things, who don't even reply after farewell was said, not even once, pretentious, artificial good will, unbelievable, spit at them in the face, o sweet!

The silent life, hypocritical faces and words, the pathetic, me, trashed over and over again, all these years, the cause torrential rain is not, ignites the unstable undercurrent it only does, like a fuse to a dynamite, gas by the fire, exploded, the door takes the place of the mouth, cries without restrain, signs of exhaust appears and it falls to the ground, with a great thump, that's it, enough.

The hands keep shaking, there're people laughing, judging, lecturing, a long and a lone fight, a bloody farce, a surface, les misérables, the humiliation, the destiny, always enslaved, unworthy, well-being is vain, and always fades into nothing, cast me into the fire and there I shall, at long last, scream.