Suppress

I got mad for some reason or other and wrote this. Anger is a creative outlet for me.

Unfocused anger courses through a vein,
Beatings on the empty soul searching for a way.
Plastering on a cast of steel, who is there to blame?
A world of black and white, one never sees the gray.

Footsteps echo, rebounding over the naked soul
A temptation of a devil to ravage the bleeding mind
Hemorrhage from the mouth, a beating never felt so cold.
Indifference never felt so good when one sees it through the eyes of the blind.
Warm hands slip away, leaving emptiness to hold.

Cradle it to your chest, press it to your lips
Feel the fever of abstinence, closed off from tightly hinged hips.
Beating back the chains that hold the body down
Pressed beneath the watery grave, with air enough to drown.

A helping hand could just barely grasp
Reaching down through icy layers of death-dealt intrusions
An uttered greeting rumbles in a barely audible rasp
Opening eyes to see the sickening delusions.
Who knew the beating could feel like fusion?
To a battered heart it will always be clasped.

Until there comes the time for relapse..
And then who is blind when that time is your last?