anger
[I've never been one for screaming. But when something hurts deeply, I chastise for hours -- albeit at a normal volume.]
These instincts betray me.
The good nature I try to uphold
Is no match for the malice set free.
My vengefulness can't be controlled.
I do try to be peaceful,
Live and let live.
But when I'm dealt a grave blow, an earful
Of heartbreak and rage I'll give.
It's reactionary when I'm severely aggravated.
My good will is incinerated
In a fraction of the time it was cultivated.
All thoughts become unmoderated.
I don't like hate.
It's kind of absurd,
How it's destructive and obliterates
My entire person in a flurry of quiet words.
Of course, it's not easily provoked.
The beast hibernates indefinitely.
I dread the instances when it's evoked;
It's hideous inordinately.