Chaotic Resolve

I lost it. I just carelessly brushed it aside and now it’s gone. And I want it back but there’s no way to get it back, to get it back from the ignorant unappreciative hands in which it surely has fallen into. That makes it that much more painful, the loss, knowing that whoever finds it will not love and cherish it as much as I did is like daggers through my twisted and groaning soul.
Loneliness sets it. Or is it loneliness? Is it just veiled rage waiting to release itself from its bonds hurting the same hurt that I am because it knows that it, as a feeling, is enslaved by my decisions and entrapped by my mind? Probably the latter. So it wrenches and wriggles trying to squirm free but to no avail.
But I feel it. Oh I feel it. I feel every moment of it like churning of my stomach or even worse, a kick and a punch from the inside, paining and bruising me every time I consciously or unconsciously think. It’s always there yearning to break free. But I don’t let it go. I don’t let it ravage the countrysides with its fire and boundless energy. I have the power to keep it in. I am me, matador of my thoughts, and trainer of my feelings.
So I hold it by the reigns like a horse at bay, this hate…this hate so personal because it is indeed personally directed at my person.
Alas, I turn and it takes a chance. It kicks me once and I double over. A crack in the wall starting small but growing large. I let go.