Of the Seven Deadly Sins, 2 of 7.

Like an open wound,
It festers.
Hate upon hate.
There is no escaping
A rage so feral.
Deep in the core of one's being,
A burning begins to build.
It escalated, spreading outward,
A terminal disease
That takes your appearance
And twists it.
Once kind eyes
Flash with an intense hate.
Lips made for laughing, smiling, kissing
Pull back from teeth in a snarl.
Slender fingers
Once used for tender caresses
Warm to become tight fists
Or ripping claws.
Shoulders thrum and vibrate
As the inner burning becomes
An outward tension.
We are reminded that
Humans are simply animals
As the desire to lash out,
Destroy, or
Harm something
Swells from deep within.
Tension in the shoulders
Spreads outwards,
And the disease of hate that has
Destroyed the appearence
Plunges inward, infecting the inside.
But what can you do
When the fists clenched in anger,
The eyes blazing with hate,
The stomach aching for vengeance,
Are all caused only
By the face seen in the mirror?
What can you do
When you've done this to yourself?