Read Our Voice Volume 7 Page 15

  Weaver

  She wove her anger into a box

  It was vast and wide

  She worked on it for hours

  Crying time to time

  That box was ugly and gruesome

  Wicked spiked and long

  Beating heart so lonesome

  Although it wasn’t wrong

  That box smelt like rotting emotions

  Overdue transcript potions

  For that box was her jail

  Whom no one would bail

  None to visit, in that angry box

  HD

  Anger

  I come in many forms

  Icy frost bitten

  Heat boiling blood

  Damaging the mind

  Faces turning ugly

  It surrounds your thoughts and

  Soul in this fog

  Teeth baring, glass shattering

  Bloody fist from the year’s battle

  It smells like salty tears

  And volcanic acid

  About to blow, leaping out of

  Our mind set

  It’s a hate that tears down the human race

  Leaving imprints and impressions that last as

  Long as time

  -HD