Upon looking at my Burning Rage
I remember Bruce.
As I think about him I wonder
How far are we from
Becomming what he was?
Take a man/woman place her at the same Instant with the Fates and Bruce and What would happen?
A distorted figure of immense,
Unvented rage immerging from the
Rubble of a nuclear nighmare.
Imagine such
Rage
Anger
Hatred
Burning within, and all it takes
Is a simple push or a harsh word.
What would happen then?
Pain?
Blood?
Death?
As I look at Bruce and his darker self
I realize
He is more normal than we are.
He shows his true emotions,
Dark though they may be.
He cares not for
Color
Age
Creed
If he is angered all know.
But we, those who call ourselves
Normal
Human
Regular
We hide behind our anger with jokes
or actions of immaturity.
When we are angered we hide it,
Pent it up,
Seal it away from others,
From ouselves,
And when the rage is too much
We hurt
Many
Way too many
So that the blood of innocence is
Dried and cacked upon our hands.
Bruce, he just can't control it
And when it is released he goes
Directly to the source.
With all his faults, his darker self
I almost envy him.

03/02/2002

Posted on 03/01/2002
Copyright © 2024 James A Holt