And Anger Becomes Her

(This will be the first time I’m dedicating a poem to some people. In some ways, this is not actually a literary work but more of an outlet to release pent-up emotions. Anyway, take it as you want.)

For the people who crossed my life at one point or the other.
You know who you are.
If you don’t, then you should.


And Anger Becomes Her

What is she?
Someone laden with a hero complex
Or a vigilante

Yet not masked as such in the ancient day
For masks have served their purpose to conceal
And she is anything but untruthful
For she is fighting a battle

A futile one, some might say
Profanity, still others would shriek
Yet no matter how much others would weigh her down
She would not, in good conscience, relent
For to conform would be to accept things as a lost cause
And some things are still worth fighting for

What are these that try to contain her?
Those that made her reach the mark

For though she might not have the world’s record for patience
Seldom would she reveal her emotions to others
But for a multitude of reasons, one more vile than the last

A broken promise, led on but abandoned halfway
Supported and abetted by others in the plot,

Set to destroy what has sought to be protected

Cowards who could not have said what it is in their hearts
For it is indeed safer to not leave the cradle of youth

Than to enter a life that does not promise anything

Severed friendships for the smallest things
Allowing chaos to steal what would otherwise have been a true comradeship

As it is easier to believe what is comfortable, and not what is true

Blind assent to whatever is dangled over people’s noses

When they would choose to accept what is fed them as gospel truth

Daring not to explore what lies within, for minds are not meant to be used

Shallowness that would make the tiniest puddle proud of its depth
Refusal to open their eyes to what the world is shouting to them

For ignorance for them is truly bliss

Pretenses as transparent as a teardrop
Believing themselves to be brilliant, concealed in their cloaks of superficiality

Not realizing that everyone else knows about their facades

Taking advantage of other people’s goodness to achieve one’s desires
Call it development of gifts, honing of talents

Yet it is nothing more but exploitation of others for one’s self-gain

Those who take the gavel and proclaim themselves judges of the world
Quick to decide who is wrong, quicker still to deny their own

A “holier than thou” attitude that conceals a festering soul

Mind control, for there is no other such term
Seeking to manipulate thoughts and emotions of those who unwittingly entered

But wanting is not getting, and getting is definitely not keeping

Is that all?

Not by far

For there are others, some without words to describe them

Yet all a personification of man’s baser nature

In vessels not expected to pour from

Yet all these combine, coagulate, transform into one

Anger appears in many forms

Some choose to weep, others to wail

But she allows it to form a shield around her

Much like a stone that is as hard as it can possibly be

Seemingly unfeeling, appearing unyielding

Yet for every piece of rock, there a dribble of water may always be wrung

So she squeezes herself out by taking the steps to departure

And since farewell is said to people with honor,

She leaves without a word to anyone.

Watching

Two bright orbs gleam, following you
Quiet, unassuming, but observing
Neither sightless ones, nor those filled with ignorance
But with a sharp glance that cuts the air like a knife
Eyes following wherever you go
Like a predator hunting its prey
It pounces on the subject, and devours
Staring at you unashamedly
Had you been aware of it,
Would the hairs on the back of your neck rise
Yet you move on, unaware of the silent observers
A couple of silent stalkers moving with you every move
Nobody is aware why these follow
Not one knows the answer to the question “Why?”
The eyes yet betray themselves
When, on unguarded moments, they ask the same question
Yet the dance still continues
With one continually seeking for the otyou who does not know of the pursuit
Would that this quiet game of hide-and-seek be played out
So that peace might be achieved