Edema Rue

Burn.

Let the anger overcome you. Let yourself be furious. You feel it, I can tell, feel the pain of a million injustices, a number that grows daily. Feel the pain of everything you’ve ever wanted and never had…but don’t let it grow stagnant or it will turn into a rancid pool of misery. 

Keep the pain moving, flowing, keep it hot and sharp. Sadness will sink into your bones and tear you apart from the inside, but we don’t want that, oh no we don’t. Let the pain burst into a flame of anger that covers your skin like the dangerous shield that it is. Don’t let anyone get too close; if they get close you must burn them…

Yes, yes, burn them. Light yourself on fire and watch their flesh melt from their muscle melt from their bones melt into nothing, all amidst the vapor formed by blood boiling so hot that it’s turned to a faintly red gas…there will not even be ashes left to remember them by. Cover yourself in a shield and protect yourself so thoroughly that no one will ever dream of coming close. Burn, burn, burn…

Break them.

Why do they deserve to live?

What gives them the right to smile?

Why do they get to remember how to laugh?

No.

They don’t deserve it.

They have no right,

No pleasure,

No choice.

Are you going to let them take away your choice?

You will make them burn.

You see them, sitting there? You see them, laughing without the slightest care at the battle that is tearing you apart?

Do they feel the pounding in their heads, forcing them to hide as best they can, taking away every choice until there is nothing left to choose but what they will make of the endless pain?

No.

They don’t.

But you do.

You feel it.

You see it.

You know it.

You know it so well, you’ve started to wonder if there’s even a person left beneath your shield of flames. 

And do you know…

Do you know that it doesn’t matter?

The person is redundant; all that’s needed is the fire, the destruction, the anger, the burning burning burning rage…kill them. Hurt them. End them. Break them. Break them until their perfect lips are too blistered to smile, until their lungs are too full of smoke to laugh, until their eyes are too blinded by the flames to sparkle. Break them because if you don’t, they will surely find a way through your shield and they will break you.

Are you ready?

Come along, child.

I see your rage. They are better than you, it’s true. They are stronger, prouder, taller, prettier, smarter, better. They could break you without even trying, but they don’t need to; why should they waste time with a mortal so far below them? They can’t imagine that there’s anything you could do to them.

Shall we prove them wrong, you and I?

Let’s go, then.

Why are you crying?