I Can'T Think Of A Name For This Poem by Chris Haifley

Such a need to control the lights,
In this quiet hour of anticipation,
Strong emotions called upon in a time of tranquility are the only ones that can be caught...
But they are always coming, always being called,
From petty situations and talk.
And they can't all be kept-can't all be written out,
Or drowned in black ink and pressed out on white paper,
They can't go away when the triggers are all around,
When the situation becomes everyday talk,
Just unfortunate attribute of this new society,
No one can understand until it actually happens.
And by then it's too late.