Modern Romanticism

What will he make of his rage

While it is so frank,

When it is so blank?

For no reason

His anger comes on

To the one, once loved.

For no reason

He feels a surge,

A tide,

The terrible effort to control,

For he cannot restrain.

How does a man

Form chains using his own veins?

How does a woman

See through the hurt

And pierce him to the guilt?

There cannot be anything to contain

A feeling so much felt in vain.