Irrelevant Relief

My spite and illwill
at different times
flood their
carefully constructed confines.
I try SO HARD to be kind,
but they push, all of them
both intentionally and not.
Always the poison escapes;
becomes acidic and leaves raw,
gaping wounds that hurt no less
because they haven't
marked my flesh.
After the angry words and actions
the container is empty, which gives relief.
But, what the toxic venom
touched upon it's exiting
destroys any good
that could have come from it.