My rage is derived from eyes so sharp they see through the idiocy being passed off as sophistication. Under the cloak of universal themes and terms such as freedom, change, and acceptance, madness ensues, being readily welcomed by those whose mind's eye questions nothing.

The whole thing becomes like this evil enchantment from a fairy tale, but you're made to believe the spell can never be broken.

Try to be happy in this present moment, and put not off being so to a time to come--as though that time should be of another make from this which has already come and is ours.

Am I a storm-waster? For it is within the fury of the very storms within which I cower that I find resources for my growth that are entirely absent on calmer days.

They tell me, shaking their heads:"You should be kinder. You are somehow furious".I used to be kind. It didn__ last long.

I could burn this place downAs many times as I'd like in my mind,Without any sympathy For the girl or her motherWho live beneath me