“Gray rage” is what self-described psychopaths call a cold, detached anger they know in themselves — the term M. E. Thomas, author of Confessions of a Sociopath, uses for a calm urge to correct, even by force, someone claiming an authority over you they do not have. It is the community’s word, not a clinical one.
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Step into my mind, a maze designed, cold and refined
Calculating every step, where passion slept, I never pined
You’re caught in the storm, feelings worn, fury swarm
But I’m the eye, calm and sly, precision my norm
While you’re wasting time on hating, I’m coldly calculating
My anger is colorblind, where you see red, I stay unrelating
No pulse in my veins to sway my aim
Precision is my game, no steps in vain, no fears to chain
You blaze with fire, a mindless ire, easily dire
But I’m ice in my veins, playing chess while you face the pyre
Gray Rage — Calculations never cease
Gray Rage — Where emotions find their peace
Gray Rage — In the silence, not the screams
Gray Rage — Cold as ice in all my dreams
Gray Rage — Watch your step, tread lightly
Gray Rage — Shadows move, striking tightly
Gray Rage — Cross me once and you’ll regret
Gray Rage — A cold war you won’t forget
Enter my game, a cold terrain, slay or be slain
Pathways in shadow, where I tread, all others pale and wane
I’m not violent, doesn’t mean I’m not dangerous
The chasm of remorse and regrets separating us
Call me a psychopath, but that’s the only me I’ve ever had
You came here for a blitzkrieg, but you’ll find your Stalingrad