—————   TELL ME,    HOW DOES IT FEEL TO LIVE WITH YOUR FISTS CURLED,   always seeking something to fight?      how does it feel to be so RABID,   so  v i c i o u s ,   so hellbent on making a RUIN out of yourself?      how does it feel to be the KNIFE between your own ribs ?     darling, you are THE WAR AND THE BATTLEFIELD and there is no victory or glory in bringing yourself to your knees.   they have SUNG of your rage,   SEE   :      and none of them have known that most of it is aimed at yourself.    it will always feel  H O L L O W ,    somewhere, somehow,     like you’re full of holes;       it will always feel like you’re inadequate.      you must learn to live with it,    one way or the other,    before you fill the grave you’ve dug.     (  you’re choking on the thoughts, half too cowardly and far too proud to end what you began;     but it’s so late, by god, too late – you’re halfway to hell, the flames licking the soles of your feet.   it’s fine, you think. you didn’t know what you wanted when you picked up the axe, anyway.  )      ©