Shadows of Fury



In the corner of a room, he stood so small,  
A boy with heavy burdens, shadows tall.  
Eyes once bright, now stormy with the past,  
Holding secrets deep, a memory cast.  

With every laughter shared, a crack in his soul,  
Lost in a maze where innocence took a toll.  
His trust, a fragile leaf caught in the wind,  
Where warmth turned cold, and the light grew dimmed.  

In the mirror’s reflection, he glimpsed his disguise,  
A man forged in anger, where pain never lies.  
Each fleeting touch, a reminder so stark,  
Connections poisoned, leaving only a mark.  

He built walls around, a fortress so high,  
Deflecting affection, pushing love aside.  
What should be tender was tangled in dread,  
His heart, a battlefield, a war in his head.  

He learned to navigate worlds devoid of grace,  
Where intimacy felt like a perilous race.  
The warmth of a kiss brought forth bitter strife,  
A reminder of battles, a struggle for life.  

With women, he danced on the edge of the flame,  
Grasping for solace, yet fearing the game.  
He wore anger like armor, a shield in his chest,  
Yet craved understanding, a moment to rest.  

In the echoes of silence, his fury would swell,  
A tempest unyielding, a deeply dug well.  
But in the stillness, when night cloaked the day,  
He sought to unravel the pain on display.  

For beneath the rage lay a heart in retreat,  
A yearning for healing, a path to compete.  
The scars told a story, not one of despair,  
But a testament of rising, of learning to care.  

So he wandered through shadows, embracing his fight,  
Transforming his anguish into flickers of light.  
With each step he took, he uncovered the truth—  
That strength stems from softness, from reclaiming his youth.  

As he learned to let go, to release the storm,  
He found in the chaos a way to transform.  
For anger, though powerful, can guide to the dawn,  
Where healing begins, and the past is reborn.  

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