Disarming myself

oblivionOblivion;
The ignorant’s sedative.
-W.E.

It may not be a wise thing to arm an armed man with more arms,
You just give me more creative ways to do harm.
I’ve built a cage around myself emotionally from a young age,
The type that perpetually contains me and my companion – rage.
Behind these bars, behind this barbed wire, you’re all secure,
From the extremes of what my mind conjures.
But as I grew older, I had to add a wall,
To keep me from breaking free, to contain my maul.
When I look at you, I’ve thought of a million ways,
To hurt you, to stop you hurting me, in your ignorant craze.
You have no idea how blessed you are, I haven’t let loose,
That, I’ve instead contained myself, paused on my toes, I choose.
The physicality is real, it’s always on stand by,
I’ve learned the arts of hand to hand, of an eye for an eye.
Sun Tzyu, Salahudin, Alexander the great,
None of them will amount to an inch of what I contain at my gates.
Do you know what it takes, to hear your abuse and remain poised,
To shut out your insults, ignorance and the rest of your noise?
I’m lucky my fifth grade teacher planted the seed,
Told me I could write, but loneliness encouraged me to read.
So instead of bare knuckled, stained palms, on paper I bleed,
It’s the only way all this anger can be freed.
It’s the only way I can have mercy on mankind,
To reserve all this evil to back corners of my mind.
To treat you all as riddles, and sort myself into rhymes,
To throw you up like confetti, rearrange you and see what I can find.
It’s a grind, ever changing, needs watering, needs feeding all the time,
It’s fucked, but you’re all safe, it’s mine.
I told you, it’s dangerous to give an armed man more arms,
But really, for me, words have kept me from hurting others, from self harm.
But has it really, for thirty eight years I’ve thrown my body into the fire,
It’s now become an addiction, this sadistic love of pain, this burning desire.
Just last night, I let four guys beat up on me, without retaliation,
But I felt no pain, no hurt, just exhilaration.
There’s got to be a condition for this, but even if there was, I wouldn’t care,
I don’t believe in psychology, psychiatry or their pretentious snares.
They’re unaware, they’re heartless, they’re a manipulative lot,
Try to contain us all, sort us all into slots.
He’s psychotic, he’s bi-polar, he’s schizophrenic,
We’ve got a drug for his condition, to numb his manic.
Manic depressive, obsessive compulsive, Savant, Autistic,
Beast in his belly, boiling, unsettled volcanic.
It seems you’ve got the problem, your sight is blurred,
I came out of the world of the blind, learned to contain myself from evil,
With words.
-W.E.

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