At first it was an alien to them;
limbless, animal, convulsing
a worm eating at the freedom of their minds.
Their thoughts were their own. They raged at the need for rage.

Then it became a fever
a need that would not be stilled
a demon that refused to sleep.
Deeds would not avenge themselves.
Nemesis was no goddess in this world.
She needed human hands to give her life.

Then it became a flood
a surge that lifted them.
More than mere anger; the richest and darkest of narcotics.
They wished to be immortal, but thought that their hatred would do.

They had learned to love it, for there was no other world.