Wrath
Upon your bones I could place a curse
a curse which would crush you to dust.
Upon your blood I could place a curse
a curse which would boil you alive.
Baleful woe could I invoke upon you
sores and boils, agony unending.
Your mind I could twist into knots
trapping you within a maze of nightmares.
A future of Stygian agony could I weave for you
bending fate and destiny in wrathful design,
pouring upon your head suffering measured out
1000 fold for each innocent you harmed.
In books ancient and dark, in shadows deep,
I could find the means to call down fire,
Condemning fires from the deepest pits.
From the path of the wise I could depart,
A wraith of vengeance to become, pursuing,
hateful, flaming, visiting doom upon you forever.
How easy it is to conjure rage, to channel hate
How tempting a power is wraith, how plentiful the targets,
How justified would be my fury against you, most evil one.
Such power, sitting within my grasp, beckoning
with what small effort could I seize it,
and grant you the fruits of your deeds.
But what curse could I utter to raise the dead,
what dark power would heal the lives you tore?
Would my rage, my lashing out, in anger I feel righteous
be any different from yours?
And who's child would I destroy, who's light would I snuff out,
who's joy would I shatter into untold pieces of dust?
What wrong would my rage right, what evil cure?
Instead another link in that vengeful chain,
would bind humanity closer still to harsh fate.
I would become you, the one I loathe, in different form.
I cannot give you forgiveness on behalf of those you hurt most,
but there is something I can do.
I can start the healing, I can put down my rage,
I can let the pain wash over me like a wave.
I can forgive, at least for myself.
I can wish you healing for your own pain,
the things which set you on this dark path.
I can be the start, I can unbind the chains of hate.
