Madness — A Poem on Emotional Extremes

When I rage, I rumble, cave, and crumble, slip and stumble, bleak, I bumble, like the thunder, I crash, then clap, snap, crackle and POP against the still & silent night

I slip,
and spew, acidic ash,
then steal the stars right
out from the sky.
I scream, to shriek,
to prey on passersby.
I flash like lightning, with all
my might, I bite, so brightly,
fighting all the blessings in my life.

My ego roars awake, it
makes the ground shake, like
I'm an earthquake, leaving disaster
in its wake, determined
to bruise our beautiful land,
and dehydrate its lakes.
I climb higher, growing stronger—
making marks, and lasting longer.
A tsunami of me, that spares
no sinner, and saves no saint.

Unrelenting, unapologetic for the lives
I'd take. I throw a fit, and let it rip,
and tear apart entire towns.
A sonic boom that blasts and
razes cities, without a sound.
Voracious, when I vanish villages
in overflowing, rivers of venom.
Amplified by the acid that I spit,
ambivalent, as I annihilate the
aggregate with utter arrogance.

These idiots incite more incendiary
ill events, but ammunition-toting armies
of elephants I bring lay them out.
I am villified by my vindictive
variety of vengefulness, that
veers invernal; much
colder than the Arctic air, I
fester frostily, more frigid
than the least inhabitable
regions across the globe.

Going for the gold, I aim
for the throat, jab at the jugular
in jest, cos I am the GOAT.
Ravenous,and rabidly,
I revoke your rights,
Riotous, until you're ragged,
this undesirable ire
can be quite rancid.
It is the pinnacle of
my primeval, animalistic
anger; the apex of a counter-intuitive
need to cause harm and
create danger. Malignant, like
cancer cos it pretends to be
close to me, liks family
although it remains a
a stranger.

A trauma response to taking onmore terror than I could handle,      although I know that I should just          walk away.

Not every turn deserves another,                  I shouldn't bother by responding to every benign insult with a massive attack that creates more grieving mothers.

But somewhere between losing every battle and wreaking havoc by breaking war protocols in wrath, I seem to have forgotten to maintain my calm, and keep some semblance of decorum & class.

Born to break cycles, and chains, and built to outlast. Strong enough to survive, but too brittle not to blast. I persevere through my past, modest, I make waves without splash, an outcast because I contrast their forecasts and left 'em aghast. 

Fortune amassed, I'm too fast, enthusiastic iconoclast I lambast when I'm harassed, rewrote their rough drafts and thrashed through their ceilings. Smashed the system, unabashed, cashed bank drafts that rescued me like life rafts.