I Was Not The Last One But Am Still The Rotten Egg Poem by Raj Dronamraju

You make me so mad
Words sputter and dissolve in the throat
Response locked up tight in full scale meltdown

And when the cookware is off the stove
And contents go from boiling to steaming sea
Not tranquil, burn to the touch but can be approached with the right insulated muted formality

And that is the christening of the name "rotten egg"
But I was not the last one to lose their cool with feminine anti-logic
That parades shamelessly as endurance test for the working class

All those who ended up standing when the music stopped
Were paired off under bad fortune
And the entitlement chairs bring to those who always find them ready to sit in

"Rotten egg" is affection dipped in malice
Smelly malice that remains on fingertips and clothes
And in the rafters of the house where two people rage at the world by raging at each other