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.
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.
Awesome Jeena. Loved it ๐
What better way to rage –
'The Pen, mightier than the Sword'
Inner strength and inner struggle have been so presented that it reaches to heart right away.
Anger , blind anger….
nice elucidation
I want to write like this Jeena Ma'm. Superb!
Thank you Anil, you're very kind. (But I doubt if you want to experience the rage that provoked this.)
Awe, Jeena- I loved this poem! The last line is sticking with me..You are very talented:-)