Anger
Do you suppose,
That in repose,
Our anger will continue to grow?
Rears an ugly head,
On the ceiling,
Above my bed.
Painted vivid colors,
All sharp points,
And prickly show.
Does our anger have a face?
Of course, it does!
No anger can have a place,
Without a target,
On its face.
Has to be different,
Then the rest.
Missing something,
Or another.
Has too much,
What a bother!
Always glimpsing in the past,
Has to make our anger last!
Folding in a touch of sin,
Whatever that is?
Makes the anger win!
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