Rage

pounding in my head

the voices say i’m dead

each new day do i dread

‘cause from two-faces am i fed

which turns my color red

where next i am led

to fill them full of lead

when they sleep in their bed

so on i they won’t tread

‘cause the voices want them dead

Disclaimer: This is one of those poems that's just therapeutic to write out but not act out. I have not done any of these things nor intend to. And I do not condone you doing them either. Poetry is an outlet, not a plan.