Irritation grows anger.
Back and forth, the clattering tide came,
a tongue of blue, spat pity.
While angels fly backwards.
Irritation grows anger.
Anger lives here.
In a crevice of doubt.
In a dilapidated home with no myriads of charms.
Anger lives in me.
Irritation grows anger,
Masquerading as a solemn nod,
cracked necks shun at black wings.
Anger has consumed me.
Irritation grows anger.
The waters are rising, draping her in conflict.
She’s swallowing prophecies to defy the odds,
of becoming anger.
