POETRY BOOK ONE: Poems People Like to Silently Move Their Lips While Reading

An argument with fearful ire
That happened only in my head
Has left me in a moody fire
Again I caught myself the liar
Finding me I thought was dead
Since long ago that tender age
Angrily I’d turned that page
Another and others in a rage
Of bitter cursing left unsaid
That rots into unfathomed dread
Wrapped ‘round and ‘round with prickly briar
Rooted in the murky mire
Growing into this my cage
Following me to bed.

|| My Poetry ||