Enslaved
It churns, it thrives, within our souls
It burns, it strives, to console.
The hurt and pain that we create
In this hapless, ironic fate.
We laugh, we sneer, and we try
To make some writhe and others cry.
It is something that we welcome in tears
Of hope, revenge, and also fear.
It is viciously wild, surely not tame,
This luminous fire of emerald flame.
It is eternal, and ever innate
This unbridled feeling that we call hate.