Sip lightly where the blood boils—
In sightless, enigmatic, fury.
It is the snake of lore we’ve seen
Suffocate those in malcontent—
The soul pulls into the coils.

Promised rage was keenly present;
Evermore the hallowed verdict
For the innocent few, pleasant
Smiles about them, unknowing,
By weathered hearts, of peace they dreamt.

Escape is not for those past,
Yet now for the wandering soul.
Anger will follow you into
The hollow grave of your regret;
This is one thing you can control.

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