The hate builds up against the walls of my heart;
The thought hits me like a dart.
I can feel the fury rushing through my veins,
And the stench of blood remains.
I can grasp it firmly in my hands
Perceiving the action it demands;
Yet, something seems to hold me back
—Is it the courage that I lack?
I sink my claws into his throat
—all sign of guilt remote—
As he gasps for his final breath
’til his certain coming death.
The tears pour out of his fearful eyes
With his desperate pleading cries.
I grin at the sight of my blood-drenched hands
—a satisfaction no one understands.
I looked back down so as his face to see,
And to my every horrid fright,
That man just happened to be me.