Nourishing Rage

Rage. Simmering gently
Just below the surface.
Hissing, moving, boiling
over into me.
It fills me, keeps me safe,
warm, nourished.
It guards me, like a white
Hot mantle; melted
Steel keeping me in -
keeping you out. 

It's simple really.
The memories that
twirl like Prima Donnas
in the landscape
of my mind…
Try to escape, be seen.
But bound off those
scorching walls.
I must keep them,
hold them dear,
explore them, prod
each open wound
with a needle.
Cause it to bleed, fester,
remind me. Forever.
I cannot lose my Rage.
It must always simmer gently.