I cannot control the rage sometimes.
The rage that burns me up inside sometimes,
Twisting my gut, shaking my sanity.
This anger that threatens to consume me sometimes;
Burning recklessly out of control.
Until there is nothing left
And I loathe the power it has over me.
Yet sometimes all I want is to let it take hold,
Let the fire take it all.
© 2020 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.
Originally Published 13 December 2018
Made of sticks and stones 
Just now!
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Aww thank you so much!
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Reblogged this on Made of sticks and stones and commented:
For the 3rd November here’s a poem about the feelings that bubble away beneath the surface …
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