Allgemein, Poetry

The Raging Man

His eyes glistening red,
his behaviour more than bad.
Yelling all around the place,
long ago lost his grace.

Fighting everyone that’s near,
forcing them to hear and fear.
His fist wild in the air,
whipping with his long hair.

His preferred weapon is his voice,
making more and more noise.
He feels misunderstood and mad,
should better go and sleep in his bed.

Spreading hate,
anger fills the room,
this man is his own doom.

Ignorance is his life,
he’s using it like a knife.
Too blind to see,
he could be free.

Loved and not alone,
with people and a home.

The big mistake he’s making,
it’s his own life he’s taking.
Not recognizing he himself isn’t holy,
expecting others to be lowly.

The devil’s in his eyes,
he’s losing his disguise.

Another soul lost and gone,
this war will go on,
until one side has won.

© Virginia Stone