anger

Sun, 02/25/2018 - 23:00 -- puffin

[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.

This poem is about: 
Me

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