Anger spills out
with a great shout
from this pen at times
as it looks for rhymes
that make some sense
without pretense,
but its only anger that spills
and my heart it fills
for the madness in a life
full of war, ever in strife.
While loving words may be said,
deeds leave only more dead
either in a war a world away
or drunks out on the highway
its ever decay and death
leaving anger on my breath.
Its a new year and a new day,
wish it truly felt that way
but for some UnGodly reason
only a rage pen writes the season.