Questioning Again

Writing, 
a blood code. 
Manipulating the taint. 

Path, 
towards the violence, 
had the tribal instinct. 

Scent, 
of testosterone, 
was the key thread. 

You, 
will not know, what 
I conceive of the coming onslaught. 

Constellation, 
was ready to strike. 
I am not myself today. 

O, life, we will never know each other.