poem i wrote awhile ago. how is it?
i can feel it coming.
like the change in season,
and from it im running.
in fear of losing my reason.
i try and walk it out.
i try to count to ten.
but the hate inside surmounts,
and i turn into the beast I've always been.
my mouth spits words,
that scorch and burn.
me eyes shoot speeding bullets.
when and how can they ever learn.
to let be this quiet poet?
but now i strain to keep my sanity
and laugh and sneer at my forgotten rule
just one more broken promise ive made me
to never again be angers fool