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Dorothy A Aug 2010
Anger
Fury
Rage
Like three tigers in a cage
Fierce like fire
Having a desire
for revenge
Not making amends

Temper
Wrath
Hateful disgrace
The world's often a hostile place
Anger out of control, corrupting the peace,
Becoming a riot, calling for the police
Anger is combative to a truce
When raw emotions are on the loose

Anger comes in many colors:

Tumultuous reds
boiling in your head
Purple passions
in warlike fashion
Seething greens,
forĀ envy is a fiend
Anger that is a shocking yellow
is anything but mellow

They blend together in a melting ***
A big, boiling cauldron, scaulding hot
In its feverish calamity, anger reeks
Of dead men's bones, you shall see
Like tasting gasoline, it is a toxic tonic
You don't want to be anywhere around it!
Its angry concoction you partake in to sip
Though it's like deadly poison on your lips!
In your body, it courses through
Before it makes a fool out of you!

Like two lighted matches on your tongue
Anger does the tango just for fun!

This mouthful of hot pins and needles stings!
You swallow it down, the whole **** thing!

You wash it all down with wine as it smolders
Down your throat anger goes, like jagged boulders!

Through your esophagus, resisting a slippery slide
Anger within you does not want to hide!

Into your gut, like a rugged coastline of pain
You now see the world with great disdain!

Your stomach evolves into a volcanic hole
Hot as a furnace with blazing coals!

Anger soon rises from the volcanic mountain
Lava bursting forth like a fiery fountain!

That is anger's transition that I see
My vision portrayed in this poetic story
Anger does have a rightful place
But out of control, it turns into hate
On one hand, it can help us fight evil
On the other, it can hurt other people
Sythin Voxe Sep 2020
If the world was the size of a penny,
a dollar would be my thoughts.

A silver coin forged in fire from scolding that's always scaulding hot.

Like a spider who cannot spin web,
I'm given a ball of twine.

Equipped with confusion and creativity, I weave a stronger web-like mind.

Under vulnerable exposure
I am like a cheetah without spots.

Mixing ink from my fear and pain to paint myself in polka-dots.

My missing words hang in the air
like wood and winded chimes.

Missing points and memories just because they slip my mind.

If the world was the size of a penny
I'd have a penny for my thoughts.

I'd spend it on complete sentences,

some extra twine,

and spots.
Looking for a shred of understanding.

— The End —