Revenge Poem by Raj Dronamraju

She's a lovely vendetta that seeks revenge through knowing you
The day you take her hand is the first day of the dish served cold
The paranoid and the lonely are first to fall into her trap of irony

A preposterous truth that we all believe in but with much disgust on behalf of the believers
They'll find themselves powerless to avert their eyes
But talk bad about her morals when she is not in the room
You'll let her lead you to a place where your civilized face gives way

From then on, you'll be angry and want to let it out on anything, that frustration that is defining and unique to each one of us
She'll be with you when this happens, behind you, in front of you, poking your person, browbeating you into demands for respect

What do you see when you harbor a hate?
Does it still look the same? Is it intangible? Or has it developed into a swollen horror?
What drips out is what is collected in a little bucket
She daubs it on your face like warpaint
She brews tea out of it