Lurking
He returned with peevish looks,
a condescending demeanor,
Vaunting as though his bones were made of rocks
and his sinews of brass,
bottled up acrimony burning from his bowels,
A prideful face, and a visage adorned with rage,
forty years of fury fueled from afar,
none could tame the lion,
cloaked with pretenses and false affiance
resentment buoyed, angst unrelenting.
the bitterest gall wells up like lava,
none could cure the brain malady,
The threath, the venom of a vermin.
Still Lurking,
though kept away by distance.
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