Waiting To Be Angry - Poem by Reinny Trink
It's waiting. Waiting for the slightest trigger to spring up like a fuming geyser, like a flaring volcano, like a California wildfire, blazing out of control before anyone has time to take precaution. It's smoldering, the cinders feeding on the charred remains of the last argument, aching for one wrong word to transform it into ember, one wrong sentence to form a fire, and at best one wrong analogy to give a combustion.
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