Rage

RAGE


Who knows the rage that Anger feels
when it is placed against its will
The sickened benediction done
regurgitating Morning's sun

Does Anger trust the rage at hand
to bury it in pleasant land
or does it go down in the dirt
to nourish every evil spurt

To swallow rain and spit it out
because the nectar,s sweet no doubt
Instead this Anger yearns to feel
The pain of self against all will