The door of her mouth


The familiar rush

her quick temper overtaking her

passing over the logical brain like the Tasmanian devil

a frothing, frenzied blur

Escaping out the door of her mouth

before she can grab its hand and hold it back.

self righteous


anger seeking empathy

exploding like a flame to gas

And then gone, leaving Remorse,

weary and resigned

I could have done that better, she thinks.

when will I learn to thrown water on the beast before

it draws attention to itself?

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