The Prerogative of Pain

I lash out

to cope

for dictate emotions

uncontrollable actions.

I gloat at your distress,

flinch at your lack

of remorse,

angered that retribution

doesn’t make

a difference

to the hole in my soul.

Every lash becomes

a backlash

but I cannot

stop.

(Something I wrote a while ago and posted in my blog. Just exploring the extremes of rage.)