Anger they say is a hot coal
that will burn you in grasping it,
but I stole this damn fire from the gods
and fucked if I am returning it.
They say the ideal is a calmness
that looks to me like catatonoia.
I say your "zen" is a badge of your privilege
smiling to forget a pain not yours,
not fully shared.
It's not in my nature to "lie back and think of England".
I won't make friends with your dragon,
won't sacrifice virgins.
I will hold the coal for my sisters,
endure the burns
always fighting
always
for their rights.
YOU ARE READING
Sweeping Winds and Rainbow Beginnings
PoetryThese are a few of my poems. I would prefer to take my time and try to sort the better ones out from the rubbish so it might take me a while to collect. I hope you can stop by and enjoy a poem or several. In poetry (good or bad) we express something...
