There’s fire in my veins
And poison in my heart
I’ve got this reckless rage
To tear everything apart
My vision’s blurred with anger
Judgment clouded by rage
Drunken madness keeps me going
How did I get to this stage
The grief stings like lava
My aura reeks of pain
Revenge boils in my blood
Visions of bodies, red stains
Better. One of the things that poetry can do, as opposed to prose, is to precis and cut down. It’s something you can be mindful of. I shortened two of your lines to scan.
Ok thanks!!