Anger Poem by Ojeikpo Elijah

In the depths of soul, anger takes its hold,
A serpent's grip, relentless and bold.
Through the veins it courses, a fiery surge,
Tearing at our essence, leaving us to purge.

A wildfire ignites, consuming our core,
Emotions ablaze, a tempest to endure.
Bridges crumble, love turns to ice,
As anger's talons dig deep, a vicious vice.

Our mind, a battlefield where thoughts collide,
Fueled by the inferno, fueled by pride.
Sharp words, like daggers, pierce the air,
With each blow, our spirit sinks in despair.

Consumed by the wrath, We lose our way,
Actions and words, a destructive display.
No foresight remains, as anger's grip tightens,
A battle our wage, but victory never brightens.

Yet, as the flames subside and the storm retreats,
Regret washes over like an August shower, a bitter defeat.
In anger's grasp, pride holds its sway,
A battle we must face, day after day.

But we shall not succumb, we'll let it go,
For anger, a tempest that will ebb and flow.
We choose forgiveness, love's gentle embrace,
For in the quest for peace lies true grace.