Ode to sincerity
Unlike a candles flame
Wrath contained,
Dissipates not
                    but
        grows and gains

Wrath contained
A brick in a washing machine
A moth in a closet
Wrath contained,
A plant growing
As Providence's Gardener is perpetually hoeing
With a deft hand doubt's seed Wrath is sowing

Wrath contained,
Is Suffering's Yeast,
To its expansion there's no end
The closed mouth is an open space for Wrath to bend
Sprouts of hope Wrath's malice fends
               Away and blights
With its bligthening might
Grinds light to dust
Creeps under the plant *** it must
Break in the foundation it may
Once cheery now morose
Day-by-day Wrath dissembled its host