An Angry Song

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Crucible of fury, flames alight, 

Soul ablaze with Promethean plight. 

Chained to anger, consumed by the night, 

Icarus shackled lacking flight.

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Punching walls, symphony of rage, 

wrath of Zeus on a vengeful stage. 

Hephaestus forging in ire, 

A fiery tempest, mythical pyre.

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On fire within, a phantom's dance, 

A turbulent waltz, the Furies' advance. 

Dark thoughts swarm, Harpies unseen,

A tempestuous anguish, a storm so keen.

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Fists meet walls, an unholy alliance, 

A desperate plea for divine defiance. 

Red stains mark the canvas of despair,

An angry phantom, caught in its own snare.

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No release in sight, just echoes of pain, 

Like Sisyphus' boulder, all struggle in vain.

Prisoner of torment, shackled by disdain,

Modern-day captive, wrestling with chains.

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Yet deep within the tempest's cruel might, 

Lies a flicker of hope, a dimming light. 

As Persephone rises from the underworld's fold, 

Hope blossoms in Hades, a tale retold.

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For even in the darkest hour's embrace, 

There exists a space for divine grace. 

To temper the flames, Athena's wise soul, 

To mend the wounds, Apollo's healing stroll.

 ***

So, let anger dissipate like smoke, 

Release pommel's grip, unbind chains that choke. 

Embrace the journey, leap the Elysian flight, 

For within the darkness, hope makes a light.