Dark Explosion

Within my heart, a flicker of fire still burns. The threads of flame have mostly drained away from my veins, and I feel broken and damned. My resentment towards them has been increasing steadily. I believe I had every right to defend myself, and my words were deadly weapons I wielded with great skill. I am capable of causing insanity with the softest of whispers, the way a snake's hiss induces panic in a helpless bird. It is not something I am proud of, my temper and my preternatural talents. But in a pinch, I will unleash hell upon the one who has incurred my wrath, and let's be thankful for small miracles because it takes an uncommon soul with courage bordering on recklessness to push me far enough to call upon the fires of hell that simmer under my skin. My explosion last night exhilarated me, because it reminds me once more that I am a child born of the darkest natures, and while most of the time I am a sweet and innocent little boy, I am capable of morphing into a cold, cruel bastard in the blink of an eye. I do not regret such a colossal explosion, one powerful enough to shake the Heavens, and the rain is an unceasing flood of angelic tears. I am mightiest when I am in darkness, and the void that has seeped into my heart has given me strength to deal with the repercussions of my actions. I do not fear persecution, because I have already condemned myself to the deepest levels of hell, and I can sink no further. The blades that I have flung at them last night are imbued with the unique poisons I carry in my heart, and their wounds may never heal completely. It will be a lasting reminder that I am not to be crossed.