Fit of temper

I kicked the door with stubborn will

and frowned at its other side.

Giving in to temper is never a lasting happy.

My mind already regretting

the malingering of a door.

My heart is still speeding

but my momentary burst of passion

is closely monitored by an unemotional inner voice,

quality control,

making tsk tsk noises

at the back of my head

making parts of me ashamed

while other parts,

stubbornly cross their arms

refusing to admit

they are slightly embarrassed.

The committee has called

an emergency meeting

on how to best deal

with the slamming of the door,

and the resulting angry neighbors

pointing and flailing their arms

while the stubborn ones frown

and make, I-did-it-and-I-don’t-care-faces

“Sensible selves would you kindly shut up..”

some lyrical messages

are so true they scare me

I stick out my tongue at the door

while simultaneously

caressing the wood

in mute apology.

2 thoughts on “Fit of temper

  1. I often write my poetry in one sitting as a means of keeping myself in the moment with the feelings I am expressing. Other times the poem writes itself over time and I have it swirling in my head for a time before I just have to commit it to paper or be in danger of overworking it.

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