It’s not anger frothing over,
Nor impatience breaking through;
Just that life has such to offer,
My rage has naught to do with you.

It’s frustration that emerges forth,
It’s despair on the run;
No, I haven’t forgotten your worth,
It’s nothing that you’ve done.

It spills across, the futile wrath,
It pours out through the cracks;
And once we’re on a warpath,
None can halt us on our tracks.

Remorse, regret, have no place
When damage has been done;
Quickly may you pass the phase,
Bad lessons swiftly forgotten.

By |2018-12-10T11:14:44+00:00November 11th, 2013|Poem|7 Comments

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  1. anu November 11, 2013 at 3:34 pm - Reply

    Awesome Jeena. Loved it 🙂

  2. Anonymous November 11, 2013 at 5:38 pm - Reply

    What better way to rage –
    'The Pen, mightier than the Sword'

  3. Vijai Prakash November 12, 2013 at 4:03 pm - Reply

    Inner strength and inner struggle have been so presented that it reaches to heart right away.

  4. Tarun Mitra November 12, 2013 at 5:13 pm - Reply

    Anger , blind anger….
    nice elucidation

  5. Anil Krishnanunni November 12, 2013 at 8:09 pm - Reply

    I want to write like this Jeena Ma'm. Superb!

  6. Jeena R. Papaadi November 13, 2013 at 1:40 pm - Reply

    Thank you Anil, you're very kind. (But I doubt if you want to experience the rage that provoked this.)

  7. Eli Z November 13, 2013 at 2:55 pm - Reply

    Awe, Jeena- I loved this poem! The last line is sticking with me..You are very talented:-)

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