Rage of Achilles

Anger, the blinding rage
of Achilles, my insides churning
and the flame of my hate
Slowly being kindled until it
Glows a vile red, fire,
shaking and tense, an excess
Of pressure trapped inside, wanting
Nothing but to burst, explode
Outward and send the source
Of my anger flying backward, hit
By the force of a boulder,
Graceful in its plummeting.
To smash the skull, bones crunched,
Left limp and crushed beneath the
Rock’s enormity. A scream
Which brings me back, the glaring
Futility of my fury, salt to a wound,
An unreasonable explosion of emotion,
Infantile yet undeniably human,
An imperfection encoded on the hearts of men.