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Anger
May 14, 2015
Stormed out the door on a late night.
A cold and soothing winter night
as cold as the words heard in the house.
And as soothing as her words as a baby.
Now, the “bastard” roaring through my ears.
Full of rage that kept warmth inside.
Late night breezes released all the thoughts
And helped escape the horrifying nights
Of shrieking voices.
Walking away would only help relieve the madness
But after walking through that door
It all begins once again.
I walk into the pits of hell.
© Jennifer P., Massapequa Park, NY
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Past experiences brought out all the anger in me and it helped me write this poem.