Rage with purpose

if my rage were a color it would be an emblem a screaming orange if my rage were a sound it would be a chorus of thunder blasting after the elusive lightning if my rage were an action it would be a precise surgical operation without anaesthesia if my rage embodied a person it would be a defiant peasant standing before a royal procession demanding justice if my rage were a mystical creature it would be a banshee lauding the Cassandra truth before all turns to hell