Hidden Anger

Of anger, fear, and death...

Like a blade in the dark,

It pierces your mind.

When all is stark,

There is nothing to find.

The voices are here,

Invading your head.

And they let out a cheer,

When you are dead.

The guns can only shatter your nerves,

When the bullets whistle through the air.

They only want to feel your curves,

And everyone begins to stare.

It all begins with the reckoning,

And the end is coming soon.

When the souls are all beckoning,

The red around you is a rising moon...

Author's Note

(Note from Feb 2012): I honestly don't remember exactly when I wrote this one, but it was definitely during the middle of my high school years (my most prolific writing days). The main thing here was that this was written more for fun than anything. I wanted an even rhyming scheme (one that didn't seem forced), and I feel as if I mostly succeeded. I also wanted something that felt like a chaotic (even psychotic) mind; it was meant to be dark and unnerving. It isn't a bad poem, but I feel as if it didn't quite reach what I had initially wanted out of it. I appreciate any and all thoughts: critiques, suggestions, and analyses. Thanks :)