The Soliloquy of Rage

Are words limited in what they can express? Can the true meaning of rage any word possess? Rage against a world that wants us to accept, that ordinary men are destined to forget, how powerless we are to injustices correct. Rage against evil not written in lines, but embodied in flesh, embodied in crimes, undealt by courts, tried only by time. Rage against a marketplace where all must be sold: your body, your mind, your heart and soul. Rage against politicians whose only truth is a lie, the language of perfidy, always made so sublime, by bordellos of greed that churn opinions as facts, purchasing votes so periodically cast, all for broken promises that never do last. Rage against laws the openly codify, the supremacy of genes and poverty as crime, the oppression of women and virtue as vice, black letters forever devoid of light, freedom forsaken must never be a right. No! Never should rage in words reside, it must leave the page, it must come alive, it must be in actions by citizens transcribed! Passivity before injustice is more than a crime; it is the abandonment of faith, the rejection of life. A soliloquy of rage is liberty denied.