Singeing my soul to its very depths!
I try to leave it behind! It depletes me!
But the angered and the incensed follow me everywhere!
Interrupting, disrupting , until rage manifests itself in me!
Who shall countenance it? Always? This great detractor!
But yet again, it shows.
St. Anger (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
(Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Anger, real anger
In all its hues
My anger muddles my thinking
Dulls my motor reflexes
Ire, real ire
My rage grows cold
like a sliver of ice
In my gut.
I wash off my hands
off your tomfoolery.
I reck not,
For a couple of my other poems , look up www.poetry.com and search for poems by Linus Fernandes.