A Rage…

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I have held the raging beast,
With its horns,
My arms aflame,
With raging agony.

Just hold on for a moment awhile,
I smell the victory,
With the rising sun,
In all its glory.

Arms blooded,
The task herculean,
Muscles torn,
Misery yet unborn.

The wispy promise of victory yet,
The drunk revelry of success.
Against all odds,
Life flourishes.

I throw all my rage and emotion,
Hideous beast my soul’s creation.
Beloved, deadly – a dangerous combination.
A beauty, a siren, a nymph, a tease.

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Whirlpool…

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Lost in a whirlpool am I,
Sometimes I surface,
As the white foam,
Substanceless, faceless
In the sunshine, I dry away.
Rest I rest at the bottom,
In form of the vortex,
That lies underneath,
Belying the truth,
Trapping the unwary.
Beware beware,
Always everywhere,
All that glitters is not gold,
Calm on the surface,
Hidden currents beneath.
Once you are caught,
Only death is your escape,
While alive it is a herculean task.
So what is it you are –
A carcass of blood and bones
Or a mighty warrior of past?