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An Anger Worse Than Death
Seething, searing pain in every step,
Every breath a gasp of white-hot fire,
My mind reeling,
Spinning,
Replaying events over and over,
A constant loop of negativity.
That consumes my body and soul from the inside out,
Taking tiny acid-filled bites that change my very being.
I can’t seem to stop it.
I’m powerless,
A slave to the rush,
Yet longing for peace.
Nothing final,
No closure in sight.
I guess what they say is true,
Anger really is worse than death itself.
Death is final,
Done,
Closure defined.
And that’s when I’ll stop being angry,
If I don’t get a grip.
I was desperately in search of inspiration and motivation today and the folks at Promptly Written came to my rescue with their weekly prompts for March 12–18. So, a big thank you to them, and in particular Christine Graves…
