Scent of Hatred

The air is heated
the pace is set
the plan in motion
my hands bore fists
gripping anger as a weapon
using hatred as my fuel
i smell bloodlust in the air
my eyes, stained blood-red
my soul, wrecked and destroyed
in pieces it turns to glass
piercing through the air
and with the wind i strike
the unknown danger
for those with the nerve
to ridicule me so