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 strip of vein 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
Heats up the anger in a second
And strike out the volcano
From inside the mountain
Which from the outer look
Seems so calm.
It’s 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;
Then the wound would never heal
For the burning is sure to leave
An everlasting scar of hurt
In a split second it shot 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.
A soul seared by the heat of volcano
Spread it’s arms wide in silence
Struggling in the battle of anger
Waiting for the moment to be
Held and pacified...
But sad yet true enough,
Everyone stays away from the fire
And only around it,
For its warmth is only a comfort from a distance.
19th October 2005