Wrath

I was choking,

spitting rage.

Judgement was silent, nonexistent,

if for a moment

inside my head.

A knife in his chest,

a red cloud in my eyes.

What is this

wonderful,

horrid,

thrilling feeling?

What is this unhinged desire?

The desire to kill,

the desire to maul,

they scream at me.

The frustration,

the pool of crimson at my feet,

it brings a sick smile to my face,

 a chuckle poorly masked.

But don't come near,

the hate still pours.

There's no need for another victim.