On Anger

 On Anger

Angered I was by the relatives I bore.
 Angry I was at what fate had in store.
 Angry I was at the circumstances that
looked me in the eye
Angry I was, I thought I would die.

Anger had had the better of me,
Angry I was, I thought I’d always be.

Angered by apathy, oh! Poor me!
Anger, anger, just set me free.

My soul charred as coal, at the regular burns;
had set ablaze a heart of gold,
The tiring onslaught of animosity
My heart; weary and cold.

A rainbow; a dew drop; a gentle breeze,
was all it took to heal the hurt,
a few deep breaths of love and care,
Anger withered like dust and dirt.