Rage is like a forest fire,
Contained inside and licking its way out, Revealing itself to everyone around, slowly. The longer it remains, the worse it gets. As firefighters come to chase out the flames, the rage gets spreads more but stays contained. As the water has done its job and rid the fire, the relaxation will be painted over the rage, only to be locked away for a little while, and once to be released again.
YOU ARE READING
Art of the Finest! (A collection of poems by Me!)
PoetryWhat's there to explain? It's a bunch of poems. Some are supposed to seem depressing and some just end up that way. Maybe someday I'll learn how to happiness :) but for now i'll just continue exposing the true emotions of our broken world
