Anger comes just like a cloud;
As if a shadow over the sky’s head
Obstructing the light of reason.
And what do we under its spell?
Nothing but the reaction,
Which our present doesn’t
Want as its wanton past.
Let me wonder not, why
We have’d such garbage in the past;
The loathsome part of the era gone,
Loomed when dark clouds
On human head and reason failed;
Red veins attacked when temples,
Butchered love messengers midway,
And ill advised machine then
Went on rampage; mechanics bad.
O anger, perpetual source of destructive machine,
Thou energise human mechanics
To move towards destruction,
O annihilative instinct, why thou exist?
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