Pages

Tuesday, October 9, 2012

Anger

When anger boils around me
like golden red fire
it doesn't matter if
it is meant for me.

(Duck, turn, cover
Placate, soothe)

Sometimes there's no
calming the storm

(Deflect
twist away
ESCAPE)

And I weather it
stinging
but only slightly singed

And sometimes
(rarely, anymore)
I
stand and fight
Angry in turn
at the fear
that shellacs me
into stillness
and makes me cringe
inside.

No comments:

Post a Comment