Anger
It burns, it claws, a relentless tide,
the kind you can’t bury, the rage you can’t hide.
A spark ignites in the pit of the chest,
growing into a storm that will never rest.
It whispers sharp and screams so loud,
a twisting shadow in a blinding shroud.
It feeds on wounds, both deep and raw,
a beast of fury with a thousand claws.
Words won’t calm what they can’t define,
logic breaks down beneath the line.
The tighter the grip, the hotter it burns,
an untamed force that twists and turns.
Eyes glare hard as the world grows dim,
the battle inside begins to brim.
A trembling fist, a jaw held tight,
the struggle to tame the endless fight.
There’s a crack in the wall, a flaw in the glass,
every fracture remembers a moment past.
It’s the weight of wrongs, the crush of pain,
the flood unleashed in a scarlet rain.
But anger wears and takes its toll,
stealing the edges of a steady soul.
Each shout a scar, each strike a tear,
each moment spent consumed in despair.
Yet somewhere deep, beyond the fire,
is a quiet plea, a strange desire–
to find the voice that breaks the chain,
to let the heat dissolve the strain.
But not yet now–let the anger rise,
let it twist and churn beneath the skies.
It’s a force, a curse, a weapon, a shield,
a restless storm that refuses to yield.