Another angry poem. Sorry for the negativity. There will be some positive poems and stories coming soon!
ANGER MISPLACED
Blood boiling white hot.
Mouth curling at the corners like well-worn paper.
Fists clenched in rage.
The danger is obvious.
The risk is evident.
The desire to hurtle headlong into him is overwhelming.
Hatred.
I despise him.
Why?
How can I hate him?
What did he ever do to me?
Driving.
Necessary.
Yet we are all in a hurry.
Rushing around in constant motion.
A race.
To get ahead.
To be first.
To get somewhere.
But really to go nowhere.
No one more important than the other.
Yet we take no heed of others each day.
For the sake of being first.
And to win.
The race to the next light.
Anger subsiding.
Rage disappearing.
Fists unclench.
Mouth uncurls.
Can’t smile.
Can’t be angry.
Yet feeling calm.
Knowing that his fate is out of my hands.
My anger is misplaced.
My ego is my own to control.
I am at peace.
Until next time.
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The best thing since Ewan McTeagle's brilliantly allegorical "What's 20 Quid to the Bloody Midland Bank?"
ReplyDeleteSeriously though, it is good to get frustrations out like this...and the next time it happens, you can control yourself, as you said.
I want to start posting some of my stuff as well (need to get it presentable).
As I mentioned before, I am writing this and I have no clue about the finer points of poetry. But it's a different style of writing, and whether it's right or not, I like writing it.
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