My civility and patience
is a burden that
hangs tightly
around my neck,

a constricting cord
that chokes me
till I am raw
with reserved rage.

Tiny tuffs
of black smoke and flames
burn me
from the inside out.

Till the pain of the world
drowns me
in a salty sea
of grief.

While others thrive off greed
profiting from pain and destruction,

I wait for some
sort of civil revolution,
or karmic retribution
that never strikes back;
Biting my tongue
till the red squirmy thing
just jumps right
out of me
and I cannot speak.