Rage Poem by RoseAnn V. Shawiak

Rage is bubbling hotly inside, scratching, tearing,
clawing it's way through tender flesh.

Ripping, pulling insides apart, throwing the pieces
everywhere.

Body clumsily holding, trying to hold, sanity in mind.

Low-roaring rage, howling through memories of yesterday,
setting a heart on fire, pulling it through burning
coals, hurting the child inside, writhing with pain.

Running away, as quickly, as fast as it can, only to
be sucked in time after time with yesterday's anger
gripping the child's neck.

Choking, throttling, the little body of a child who
knows not of what is going on.

Blindly falling, head on chest, filled with the fire
of shame put there by blame and guilt of adults who
were supposed to be responsible and caring.

A little child, torn apart at last by horrors of the
past, as anger quenches it's last small breath, rage
promising the death of past memories.

Scratching, tearing, clawing it's way through tender,
innocent, young flesh, rage bubbles hotly inside,
searing a young mind eternally.