When a child throws a tantrum,
he’d cry and scream and wail.
He’d flail his arms and throw himself on the floor.

Like a child I have tantrums too.

But I have grown past the luxury where it is acceptable for me to openly showcase such explosive displays of displeasure and discontent.

So what do I do?
I have to carefully select words that possibly could capture the essence of the disquiet in my heart and mind.

And I pen them down in tears.







This is me,
and I’m throwing a tantrum.

What might set us apart
between mice and men.

Could be the hard choices
in which we must make.

A wise mind
with the potency of ink from a pen.

And a scale to weigh
the outcomes at stake.

.
Cut me loose

     from these strings

          that bind.


So I might again

     exercise the freedom

          of mind.

.