Anger is Only a Letter Short of Danger

The anger flows,
comes and goes.
Then returns with a vengeance.

The rage it burns,
my limbs they yearn,
for release on anything I can find.

The fury radiates from deep within,
to the point that you can smell it on my skin,
boiling until I'm sweating out my blood.

The madness pumps acid through my veins,
until I'm screaming from the constant pain,
of slow and gruesome murder.

My wrath is unleashed,
on anyone in reach,
no matter who you are
or what you've done.