The potency of anger

Life is hard. 

A chaotic, churning mess of turmoil often ending without proper course, leaving us confused and unfulfilled as we drift out into space.

Only if we let it.

RAGE at that void, fight for all you can to snatch meaning from the meaningless.

Religion, politics, and environmental concerns: all of them valid resources to draw from that pool of anger burbling beneath that thin veneer of ice separating it from the outside world.

The trick is to not let it fester into hate. Hate is sugar in the gas tank, a poison to your rage that will distract you from your goals.

Instead you must use it as a driving force, a rubberband tied tight around the object of your fury set to snap it back into a proper setting, to fix and eradicate that small bit of liquid fire.

Bit by bit it flows out, and changes happen. 

You construct a house from your anger at poverty, and someone has a home. The burden is lessened.

You put a drop of your effervescent piss into a lobbying fund against animal cruelty, and the law gradually changes to reflect what is right.

Do not let go of that anger. Feed it, and use it.

 

This poem is about: 
Our world

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