Anger

Alas I understood that anger isn't crimson. Anger is dark, as dark as it can be. Darker than sorrows, or even lust. And it doesn't grow in your veins or linger in your bones. Anger is an embrace. An embrace so welcoming, it feels forgivable. And yet your pardon is taken, from those whose pain you drink. Your reasons for the cause is a reason for their deaths. Yet again, it wouldn't be anger if you don't intend to kill.