I am a bottle of Rage
For Sale
I am a bottle of Pain
For Sale
Won’t anyone buy me?
Won’t anyone try me?
I guess the market is oversaturated.
This heart is hotter than fire, colder than ice, broken like glass, and a million other cliches
Everything is stuffed in there; everything is exploding out of it.
None of this makes for a good call to action. Need something that pops, in short, attention statement sentences.
Rage for the broken. Be bold. Be Rageful. The creative director wants options. The copy needs to be bolder than bold.
What’s bolder than bold? A boulder. I’ll see myself out.
When the pain is too much, only rage can replace it
When the heart breaks, only rage will repair it
But what about love, you say? What about forgiveness?
Forgiveness is for fools. Forgiveness is forced. Forgiveness will not dissolve the pain, it will only put a band-aid over the gaping wound. Forgiveness is weak, it won’t fix anything, it will just let the people who have trampled you to keep on trampling you. Should Hitler be forgiven? Should Lucifer? Should we forgive war crimes?
Why should we forgive crimes of the heart?
What you need is Revenge.
I am a bottle of Revenge, mixed with Rage, shaken and ready to detonate fizz when you twist open my screw top. I am effervescent chaos. I am grasping, I am clinging.
I am nursed Pain, brought back to life each and every time.
I am Pain that will not die.
I am the scorned, the lonely, the desperate.
I am the vindictive, the petty, the wrathful.
You have distilled me to my finest vintage.
Crystallized my conflicted impulse.
I want you back—I want to push you away.
I love you—I hate you—and a million other cliches.
How could you wrong me, betray me?
Bend me, break me, burn me.
I am the house you burned down.
I am the lighter fluid you flung.
I am the stitch in the nerves that won't quit.
That has me shaking, convulsing.
I need something to distract me, many things to distract me from this pain.
So go on and buy me and let’s distract each other.