If Anger was a woman

her voice is familiar, yet her bite is deadly.

She knocked down everything with her touch

like a fire, she starts with a flick, and grows into a giant flame,

fed by envy, jealous and the most deadly of them all,

pride.

Her rage can not be contained as her heart hardens up

no apology can sooth her, no act can quench her thirst for vengeance.

She was neglected as a child and grew up to be stronger and dangerous as ever.

she is suppressed inside you, build up with every drop of frustration – you see, that is her oil

Until one day, BOOM!

Anger. She shows her true colours

blinds everyone that gazes towards her direction. As destructive as she is, she can only be contained in the a specific environment.

One that is watered by understanding

Sprinkled with humility

Nurtured by compassion and maintained by honesty.

Written by Diana Kolawole

DIANAKOLAWOLE.DESIGN™

Posted in: life, Poetry, Poetry

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