Because Anger Surfaces To Breathe

This anger grows inside cavities of the soul, It lives there, Only to surface for air to keep it alive, It comes from deep dark abyss’s and floats on oceans of the body, Not often, or perhaps frequently it makes its presence known, It cuts those close to it with razor sharp words, It eats away at the heart slowly like a fungus, It is a seed that sprouts from the bottom of bellies, A clinging vine that takes over the inside of the body and the mind, It is the controller of every movement, Our legs, our arms, our hands, our sex organs, our heads, and are mouths belong to it, We all know it well, Children, adults, and the elderly know who put it in them, It creates many paths in this life, Some will travel to the gates of their heaven, Some will travel to the gates of their hell, Some will travel nowhere and limbo will be their best friend, Anger has many faces, It has the face of grief laid out under the desert sun dry of every tear, It has the face of resentment, running like a raging bull, It has the face of pain, like death reaching for life with wide eyes, It has the face of injustice, and lady justice walking away laughing without her scales, Why must it live? We know were it comes from, We know what keeps it alive, It murderer’s the true anima, A fury, that imprisons life.