Bubbling Rage Poem by RoseAnn V. Shawiak

Rage is bubbling hotly inside, scratching, tearing, clawing
it's way through tender flesh, ripping, pulling insides a-
part, throwing the pieces everywhere.

Body clumsily holding, trying to hold sanity in mind, a low
roaring rage howling through memories of yesterday, setting
a heart on fire.

Pulling it through burning coals, hurting, bleeding, the
child inside writhing with excruciating pain, running away,
as quickly and as fast at 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's 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 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 and
innocent young flesh, rage bubbles hotly inside, searing
a young mind eternally.