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Rated: E · Poetry · Dark · #1998444

Keeping things bottled up can erupt when you least expect it.

Out of Control

Fire burning deep within, skin as cold as ice.
Hidden is the fury, by my mask of calm.
Torturing my soul, with increasing pain.
One day I will erupt, causing everybody harm.

How long will it be, before the mask slips.
When rage takes over, seeing red mist.
I don't want to hurt you, I'm out of control.
Come lets talk calmly, please, I insist.
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