Anger

A crimson tide, a storm within the breast,

It churns and boils, a tempest uncontrolled,

A fiery dragon, roused from slumber's rest,

Its breath of fury, stories yet untold.

The face contorts, the gentle eyes grow hard,

A bitter word, a sharp and stinging dart,

Leaving a wound, a deep and lasting scar,

A fractured trust, a slowly breaking heart.

Oh, anger, why this hold upon my soul?

This burning rage that threatens to consume,

Leaving me empty, losing all control,

Lost in the darkness, sealed within a tomb.

Yet, can I learn to tame this fiery beast?

And find in peace, a solace and a feast?