My Rage

My rage as a child knew no bounds.

It was a raw destructive animal

That had no strategy or cover.

It bore no tactical nous of maneuver.

Held no plans for a bright future

And leapt wildly from the confines

Of acceptance,

It was a belligerent beast of destruction.

No fence, border or man, could

Tame or hold the hostile lunatic

That held a passport called rage.

It could flare up at

Any given circumstance,

It could appear as quickly

As a rain cloud, and deliver

A heavy turbulent downpour…

No, it wasn’t pleasant…

It was never pleasant…

It could ignite from a mere

Phrase or sentence, explode

On a whim or a failed demand,

It threw chairs at teachers

And hit fellow children

It pushed playmates

Of garage roof tops that

Resulted in broken legs….

No…it certainly wasn’t pleasant…

 

My rage as a man

Can be as equally intense.

But I’ve noticed that it

Is generally reserved for

Football matches and sporting

Fields of play,

A live match on the TV,

Or the occasional road rage,

Yeah, tailgaters….

They bring it out,

I’ve a heavy wooden cosh

Underneath my seat,

And I’m afraid it’ll get used

If some prick gets too close

To me…

Reviews

[Stacey]

Frightening! I never thought I'd be glad to not live in London hah

"And leapt wildly from the confines
Of acceptance,"

I really like those lines.

[wizthom]

nice this made me lol