Why am I angry?

Rage has taken over twice now

Yet there is no reason for it, not really.

Where is the resistance that has taken this from of expression?

What is it holding me back from?

Does my ego so fear death that it’s clinging on with all it can?

So much thought and clarity,

Why am I angry?

To Lament

To lament that which we are rid of
After we chose it
Why do we succumb to such things?

Is it a fools passion
The hopeless cry of the romantic
Or the nature of the human condition?

One day no more will we worry, wonder or want
For that which was once lamented
Is now not even a memory

Replaced it has been by that which you again be rid of
Repeating your cycle evermore.


What is it that makes us human
Could it be the random acts of kindness
Or the faith we have in others
Maybe it’s all of those

Are we so hopelessly divine
That redemption is not needed
Our sacrifice unwarranted

Does magnanimity abhor
The altruistic acts

Allude us the answer does.