The Anger I Fear

 Why is there so much anger in me,

Against the world, against what I see?

A fire rising without a name,

Burning quietly all the same.

The mind grows heavy, sharp, and loud,
Turning warmth into a darkened cloud;
Not wishing harm, not wishing pain,
Yet anger returns again and again.

I never wanted a heart this hard,
Never wished to keep my guard;
Still something deep refuses peace,
As if restless storms will never cease.

Perhaps the soul is tired inside,
Holding wounds it tries to hide;
For anger often grows from pain,
From silent losses that remain.

So may this heart learn calm someday,
May bitterness slowly fade away;
For beneath the anger, fierce and sore,
Lives a soul that wished to hurt no more.