Anger, real anger
In all its hues
Infuses color
My anger muddles my thinking
Dulls my motor reflexes
Ire, real ire
Risky business,
Flame on!
My rage grows cold
like a sliver of ice
In my gut.
I wash off my hands
off your tomfoolery.
I reck not,
I’ll shout!

For a couple of my other poems , look up and search for poems by Linus Fernandes.