Revenge

Corrode my conscience, O Lord—
let my throat spit only scorn.
Wrap me in armor of rage,
teach me to face myself bare,
never to turn back
from the path of truth.
 
No shame, no fear—
only the rag pressed hard
against a face of fury,
only survival in anger,
waiting for the moment.
 
Calm as a kite on the terrace,
in wrath, in rebellion,
I will one day unfurl my wings,
strike at the monuments of lies,
tear away their pale blessing—
thirsting only,
for revenge.