I've heard that it takes grace to remain kind in cruel situations.
I do not want grace.
I want tooth and nail.
I want sticks and stones,
blood in the mouth,
smoke in the lungs,
violent
rage.
But my training kicks in.
I'm silent, nodding.
I make room for the rage of others.
When will I escape my nature?
YOU ARE READING
Zoning out at Work Vibes
PoetrySometimes at work, the idea for a story or poem pops into my head. No one said I should write them down, but I've decided to try anyway. Maybe you will think it is awful, but I already love this. About halfway through, I begin to mix in some of my o...
