walking around in a self-induced daze.
Succumbing to my inner rage.
I saw how humans looked at me.
I cared not what they might see.
I could see no reason why.
Some of these humans shouldn’t die.
For my sanity, should I cry?
Like a sleeping dog, should I let it lie?
My actions soon get out of hand.
These humans cannot understand.
My inner sight has turned blood red.
 I see around me the walking dead.
Those who have no right to live.
Who take everything and never give.
I point my finger like a gun.
Expecting them in terror to run.
It does not happen, they all converge.
Someone shouts, ‘’He’s on the verge’’.
‘’On the verge of what’’, I scream.
There is no escaping from my dream.
‘’Grab him quick, his mind is lost’’.
‘’If he escapes we pay the cost’’.
Rushed and tumbled to the ground.
I’m beat and pummeled all around.
Soon blood red rage really sets in.
I become superhuman then.
I throw them off, like so much trash.
My actions then become quite rash.
I rip, I rend, body parts fly.
Those not running in terror, soon die.
The crowd is gone, I’m left alone.
Gnawing on a bloody bone.
I’m soaked in gore, it covers my face.
I’ve wreaked havoc everyplace.
Overhead, I see a giant bird.
A metallic wing-beat, I’ve never heard.
I feel a stinging in my neck.
Dropping me silently to the deck.
I know now what waits in store.
I return to suffer in Hell once more.
Back to Hell, again to burn.
Until the next time I return.
D.L. Crockett 4-10-1997