Wrath

I looked straight into Sun's eyes and challenged her with great audacity to dry the lakes in my eyes. I'll let her stab my face again and again and again until I lose feeling. Her flame is jealous of my blazing wrath —an eternal state of day that lights up my never-ending night. And I'm an insane insomniac, sane enough to dance to the silence of the gloomy night. I'm a pile of emotion and truth turning into shreds of lies, and tomorrow I'll be a haze condensing into wax over the head of nothingness to hide anonymous sorrows, and the day after, I'll look into the mirror and find nothing . . .