cursed

I’ve never seen red, not in the way the saying is meant.
Though I have bled, my knuckles were split and spent.
I’ve never flown into a white-hot murderous rage.
Though I have thrown hateful hexes as a dark mage.
I’ve never choked the life away from a mortal enemy.
Though I have wrapped my hands around a neck painfully.

I’m not prim and proper and everything nice most of the time.
I’m losing battles to my demons without reason or rhyme.
I’m cursed in a waged war against my fire-fueled temper.
I’m cursed to hurt those I hold closest, hold most dear.

I’ve never thrown a punch in anger, at a person anyway.
Though I have lashed out at walls, my fists made them pay.
I’ve never, deserved or not, truly tried to murder anyone.
Though, if they had power, my hurled words would have done.
I’ve never not regretted my outbursts after each lost battle.
Though I have relished the release that lets my soul rattle.

I’m not prim and proper and everything nice most of the time.
I’m losing battles to my demons without reason or rhyme.
I’m cursed in a waged war against my fire-fueled temper.
I’m cursed to hurt those I hold closest, hold most dear.

I’ve shown glimpses of the raging fire licking at my core.
Though I’ve never admitted how it always craves more.
I’ve shown glimpses of my truth in my darkest fiction.
Though I’ve never admitted it might truly be an addiction.
I’ve shown glimpses, here and there, for those who looked.
Though I’ve never admitted, not yet anyway, I’m hooked.

I’m not the Mr. Nice Guy everyone wants me to be.
I’m wouldn’t want to even if it were a possibility.
I’m cursed in a waged war against society.
I’m cursed because I think differently.