Eruption
Rage — Goddess, sing the rage of Peleus’ son Achilles
Homer, The Iliad
My lungs become bellows, and I release words. I regret nothing said. I was in a safe place and with people who like me. My thoughts are my own. I am a kind, generous, understanding man.
What you heard was honest. I can’t control how you interpret what you decide you heard.
I don’t even care.
Anger has a place, and I felt it. I used it. I am done with it now.
I forgive me.
“You?” Not my problem.
Constant Havoc 