Climb the highest mountain, punch the face of god

Empty bottles are empty

Slammed by the wind,
Sliced by thick raindrops.
I'm confused and
Wandering blindly in a
Rage of my own storm.

Who told you
I couldn't make anger?
You've never vacationed
In the caverns of my mind.
You've never been lost
On the trail of my thought.

I can get angry,
I bottle it and sell it
For cheap, to spare
Myself the embarrassment
Of having to express it.

The bottles are empty
But the negativity is there.


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Empty bottles are empty

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