Scorched Release

The voices push in, relentless and tight,
whispering chains that bind me in the night,
labeling self-restriction on a form taking flight,
exposing the raw edges of a younger art,
fueling the flames that gnaw at my heart.

The anger is on the move,
a silent predator lurking, wayward bound—
a killer cloaked in shadows, trying not to show,
but rather to build, to swell, to grow
until the silence screams, until the dam overflows.

Trying to hold on, I grip the pain—
inflictions that cut deep, leave a stain,
a tormented punishment dealt by unseen hands,
a burden carried across these desolate lands.

The fires are stoked, the embers glow,
but I try to keep it all down below.
Beneath the surface, anger seethes,
wayward thoughts that choke, that squeeze.
I’m readying for the explosion of deceiving thoughts,
the lies I’ve swallowed, the lines I’ve crossed.

I cannot control the release that draws near,
the fury that bleeds out in burning tears.
Pain flows through veins like molten lead,
a scorching river where all hope is dead.

The soul burns, blistered and raw—
a relentless heat that strips it all,
an unrelenting relief, a twisted balm
that soothes as it sears, that rages so calm.

For the anger that fills me is a beast I feed,
born of rejection, of unmet need.
It promises relief, a cleansing release,
but only leaves ashes, never peace.

And so I burn, a pyre set alight,
consumed by the fires I try to fight.
The voices push in, but they do not see—
this inferno within is a part of me.

Let it all burn, let it all break—
for in the ashes, perhaps I’ll wake.
A soul reborn, a heart made new,
or just another flame that burns through.