Anger

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  • Anger

    Anger

    yelling, swinging my fists, dwelling, the anger, deep within me it exists, boiling over like stew, the old and the new, keeps me toiling away with all that I do. In comes the new day, awake to work and to play, yet somehow I can't quite push it away, impatient, and restless, annoyed by it all, so I waste and repress it, the big and the small, a wall is put up, and its painted and painted, running from truths until memories tainted, SNAP, then it hits, so sudden and swift, so hard to belive this emotion exists, ATTACK with my fists, against all my wits, the first thing I see I must destroy it, my weakness, my strengths, how I achieve ranks, but to own its a reason for me to give thanks

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    Poetry is what gets lost in translation.

    Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.

    dtalks’s Poems (21)

    Title Comments
    Title Comments
    This life of ours.... 0
    a problem 0
    WHAT BELONGS TO ALL OF US 0
    Dad 0
    self control 0
    here we go again.... 1
    Lonesomely Tired 0
    Stubborn 1
    Vices 0
    Bicycle 0
    The Little Things 1
    Trust 1
    Life 0
    potential lover 2
    Where to turn? 1
    Motivation 3
    you 0
    Tattooed 1
    saturday night 2
    Climb out these holes 0
    Anger 0