The Angry Man
Fists clenched tight, real tight
Jaws locked, this primeval
urge to fight, beating the wall
it wont give in, but neither will I
strike after strike, with each drop
blood then sweat, nothing else
no one else, nowhere else
seems to matter
true enough these are motions of man
but not of a good man, not of me...
in the shattered glass, the puddle of blood
A reflection, wild and lawless
cold and heartless, I have to
beat this, to see this
for what it is, though powerful and relentless
Not strength, not strength at all
simply weakness
poem by Craig Parmisan
Added by Poetry Lover
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