/lit/ - Literature

First, the brows furrow onto the eyes,
Indignation beneath sarcasm's guise.
Then as the voice cracks and breaks,
Beaten weary by reason; beast awakes.

The brows now arch, eyes open clamped,
A demon's face from a nightmare dreamt.
Although transformation this is not,
Rather a form simply forgot.

The blacks taper, revealing color cloudy,
Eavesdroppers hear a man who's rowdy.
But front row seats get eyes too focused
For such response, out of control's locus.

Now all threats spent, but still repeated,
With rehearsed attacks he was repleted.
Submission received, now marching away,
Although not finished, he'd won the day.