Temper (II)

Enraged am I again,

Once more my anger bubbles,

Nothing but a cauldron sea

Of ever-burning troubles.

I see mankind does suffer,

Bent beneath the weight

Of deliquescence in the form

That flying harpy Fate!

She picks us up the ears,

Does dunk us in the sea,

Its salt dissolving all our souls

With hard aridity.

Then she pulls us clear,

Sends us back to land,

Except we haven’t now protection

From the hostile hand

That slaps us in the face,

No tickle do we feel,

Simply stinging, drowning

All the barnacles our keel.

What is this clod of nature,

What be this wretched force,

This terrible and hazardous

Life-threat’ning clotted source?

It burns me deep within,

Such ire I’ve never felt,

If I don’t quick douse it

Will I waxen, wane and melt.

My fury must be slaked,

Against Fate will I struggle,

A war fought with advanced machines

To kill one unarmed muggle.

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