Thousands of thoughts
Of past and present,
At times tame the mount of anger
From exploding out
Boiling blood rushes from the tip of toe
Through every stripe of veins and
Strikes out the anger through the sight
An eye to touch that mild glance
Would burn into ash
Slightest touch of a friendly tease,
Intentional or unintentional
Hits up the anger in a second
And strike out the volcano
From inside the mountain
Which from the outer look
Seems so calm
Its just the lesson from the spilled coffee story
That kept the lips spread wide
Hiding the pain that hurts inside
Along with the pretentious face of joy.
It is fake but should it fade;
Than the wound would never heal
For the burning is sure to leave
An everlasting scar of hurt
In a split second it shots up,
Right to the tip of the nose and fingers
And turns them into ice cold cubes
For the anger is held from spilling off
Yet, the thousands of thoughts
Of past and present
With the spilled coffee story
Held the anger back,
Tame the burning heart
And kept the infected swelling
Beneath the skin.
And there;
A soul seared by the heat of volcano
Spread its arms wide in silent
Struggling in the battle of anger
Waiting for the moment to be
Held and pacified.
But sad, yet very true.
Everyone stays away from the fire
and only around it
For its warmth only comforts from a distance.
