Fire On The Mountain

Something beautiful has broken and now I reap the rewards of the consequences of decisions I have made and the political maneuvers of others. I stand here staring out the window with my lips curled into a snarl and right hand squeezing the life out of a rubber ball. Inside my head I hear the roar of the freight train that rumbles towards me and find myself standing in the middle of the tracks daring it to hit me. It is not suicide that propels me onto the tracks but rage.

I burn and I ache but I remain defiant…obstinate and unwilling to just go away. The point and purpose of my actions aren’t clear to you and I don’t care. I don’t report to you. I don’t owe you explanations or any sort of words. When it got hard you left and made it clear that I had no reason to rely upon your return.

So I don’t and I won’t. I am alone on this road and dammit I am kind of happy about it. Everything went to hell and I went with it.  Better to be angry and bitter than an empty, hollow shell of a man. Anger fuels my fire and any time I feel it begin to cool I think upon what once was and remember what isn’t.

The fire that burns within won’t let me quit nor will it allow me to relax. Rage consumes my core and creates a careless condition. Better I should be alone than near anyone. Better to be left to myself and my thoughts for now is the time when I would wield my words like a barbarian wields his sword. I offer no quarter and suffer no fools.

I shall ache and burn until I do so no longer. That is not gibberish or exaggeration. It simply is fact.

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