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  • Writer's pictureAnnelisa MacBean

Anger's Name

by Randy L. McClave

I sat with my anger on the chair

We sat so long, I felt hatred so I said a prayer,

Then into space I began to stare

Thinking why was there rage and no care.

And there I sat mad and very angry,

To whoever that I met, or whoever I did see.

I sat with my anger now on the couch seat

No one did I want to see or greet,

I looked and I continually felt a defeat

With everyone that I passed or that I did meet.

I was angry at everyone that just said, "hi",

I wished that they all would just instead cry.

I finally decided that I sat with my anger long enough

I was so tired of its lies and its bluff,

Anger made me very weak and it tough

I got so sick and tired of feeling this rough.

So, then I decided that I would try a grin,

I wasn't going to allow my anger to win.

My anger wouldn't give me no relief

It greedily stole my emotions just like a thief,

Then anger told me a secret in disbelief

And it made the story so very brief.

Because of anger I felt sadness and shame,

But, then anger whispered that grief, was his real name.

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