The Eye

The little boy that cried wolf..

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The Eye
The heartbeat quickens:
Surge of epinephrine.
The temperature rises,
Something stirring within.

A flurry of thoughts hither and thither.
Usual control it seems to lack.
Fueled with emotion rising and swirling.
Overwhelming all sense of reason and tact.

They form into words, these unwelcome forces,
Adding in vain, more fuel to the flame.
They surge out of control, but for a moment.
Perpetuating actions reasoned by blame.

The monsters they wake, hungry for more.
Hungry for what they see in the store.
They feed off the weakness by unguarded moment.
They rise and seize the opportunity for torment.

Words can be spoken, but stick will break bones.
Just a little bit more, and they will have their way.
Keep them in check, watch them intently.
Watch for their creeping to keep them at bay.

How long will it last, this chemical imbalance.
How long will you ride these waves of fury.
How much will you allow yourself to be taken.
How much more before your conscience awakens.

They come and go, wreaking all havoc.
And finally fade, mild disaster in wake.
They have to be watched a little more closely,
And must be stopped, before more is at stake.

The dust will settle and the wind will cool.
The monsters have stopped knocking the door.
Only regret and unwelcome memory remains.
Leaving one worse for wear than before.

-The Psychic Butterfly-


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