Wrathopath

When I turn scarlet
The heart palpitates,
The blood sears through the veins
Tears wells up as they sting through the whiteness,
Quivering lips try to form words of justification
For actions ruthless, capriciousthose that cannot be undone,
All done to scathe
Wish impulse would not engulf
When thoughts stricken with despondency
Fail to tread the judicious path