In the crucible of anger’s breed,
Wrath, the tempest, plants its fiery seed.
A dark force rising, in shadows it unfurls,
In the blackened heart, where hatred swirls.

Black, the cloak that veils reason’s light,
As fury consumes both day and night.
A storm of rage, thundering and loud,
Leaving in its wake, a desolate shroud.

Eyes ablaze like coals of burning ire,
In the soul’s abyss, where demons conspire.
Blackened thoughts, a venomous brew,
In the crucible of wrath, reason askew.

Yet, in the silence that follows the roar,
A choice emerges from anger’s core.
To let the shadows of hatred part,
And heal the wounds with a forgiving heart.

Release the chains of vengeance’s might,
For in the blackness, find a guiding light.
In the crucible of wrath, let wisdom steer,
And banish the shadows, hold forgiveness dear.