Anger doesn't suit me.
Or serve me, or solve a thing.
But when that fire rises in my throat
and burns on my tongue,
sparks flying from my lips,
it is difficult to douse.
This day is so goddamned hot,
like the devil himself is
breathing down my neck.
Mind and body engulfed in flames,
cool detachment just out of reach.
Before long, a pile of ash.
Sweep it away.
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