Who am I?

Well according to the blood

Falling from my hands-

I'm rage driven,

easily excited

by the uselessness of those around me,

That I find myself slipping

glasses from my grasp

until they're broken on the floor

but it doesn't matter to me-

Those were only droplets of my agony

while I sit here in my room

wondering how many seas

will have to be made red- by me-

Before people stop acting like I'm beneath them.

Ferocity like this,

Would have cost me my peace once

and I'd prayed to God before,

to take away the untamed flames

I knew lied within me.

Peace for those people

looked like Samson without his mane

subdued and silent,

untamed and yet mastered,

But! Looks like the mane is back,

Because I almost died without

my fire, my power, my mane up ablaze.

Prepare your heathen armies,

Because I refuse to be bound,

any longer in captivity,

waiting for eyes I use to see with

to be gouged out of their sockets

depriving me of sight and truth.

I won't be lured by old allies!

Lovers or friends or family,

Family or friends or lovers:

People I once looked up to

Who stripped me of my pride

Left me dangling on a cliff

and panting in the desert.

All those people,

who showed hardened backs to my grief

as my gasps reached out for them,

and they muted me, moved me

to the reconciliation room,

so they could recite their daily penance,

waiting for me to pray their absolution.

Oh Lovers! Betrayers!

I'm sick of these Delilah's

I won't be lured by old allies

with ancient secrets of my heart

for them to use it

to ensnare me.

Oh no, Never Again

I will fight my own battles

If it means I never grovel

at the feet of the hyenas

when I was made a lion.

Who am I?

With these raging hands,

and enflamed heart,

standing before you,

all bloody from my excitement.

Who am I?

Standing here before you,

with blood gushing, from

my heart here in my hands.

Daring you to take it.

Who am I?