Anger was always an accident,
until it was a mistake,
then it was something more,
more than all of this nonsense,
hind sight was a casualty of madness,
but the clarity was impossible to come by until it was too late for recourse,
but maybe recourse was overrated,
maybe fervor was necessary,
And anger was always threaded with regret,
just a question of whose
but the sound of my fury was something to be reckoned with,
and then reconciled
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