Anger a Sleeping Lion


I put anger in my pocket way down deep…

where as I lion, I hope, it will wane and sleep.

Atop of my head and nuzzled down tight with a knit cap. annoyance is no longer a friend.

I try to hide it behind the saltines and the mean drive by’s in the mind…

Anger’s persistence is not kind.

Into the woods, a daily walk.

Yet, a clandestine obscurity invades what I have not.

I have not the restfulness that wills itself to my soul.

Everywhere, everywhere, barren holes.

I will get to the end of my reach…one of these minutes.

Indignation will put the well-traveled deep…until weathered with forgiveness.

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