"You can't paint a clock with mercury and not expect to lose your teeth."
She said as I stood there with my jaw clenched hard enough that the heat of my wrath evaporated the tears of my sorrow. My shoulder's sagged as I realized what she meant.
Rage can mask grief. It is an armor that protects us from the arrows of woe. Unfortunately, armor comes with a sword and a blindness. It seeps into every crevice of our life, harmfully affecting that which we are charged to protect. Within it, we lose all other feeling, good and bad. Often not realizing it until we gaze upon the wreckage in our wake.
You cannot wield it without harm.
