From innocent script
wrath burns through lines
as the reader scans
each word
twisting meanings,
growing angry,
verse by verse.
Explosive phone calls
with rationless roots
those words cut deeper
than need ever be.
Disgusts wells up in me,
courses through me,
burning like fire.
Innocent poetry
slandered by the mindless;
lacking in maturity
which leaves me to wonder;
if after it all,
the “experience”
and the “lessons learned”
we still act like children,
will anyone
ever
grow up?