Tete-A-Tete

There’s just something about rage, Furious and focused, Real yet fleeting, Gaze into an eye of anger, So separate from the other, Driven back, Cold yet unsure, Direction given, Stern and overcast with doubt, Wanting to be heard, Not out of need, Out of desire, Pure power lust, Looking back now it’s noticed, Stuttering vocal inflections, Demands scribbled in the air, And a look of distaste, Knowing it’s not at all true, Saying it anyway. There’s just something about defiance, Rushing in eardrums, Allowing such stoic sight, Causing more than trouble, Fueling the slip of mouth, We all know why this happened, Why this course runs bare, For the pleasure of another, Or selfish gains, Mostly gains, Monotony broken, And getting a kick out of it, Forgetting just the purpose, Recalling most the feeling, Asking a fairness, In an unfair manner, Perhaps it’s hatred, Or anything more than displeasure, Yours to take. A Poem by David A. Cain (Entered in Contest)