Literary Inktober 2: “Anger”


There is a hunger prowling,
a deep and rooted pain.
I see it shining
through a haze,
within a fog,
across a parting sea.

It writhes and burns,
and seeks but to devour,
every thing and every soul
I’ve kept within me still.

And if too long
I linger here, dwelling,
on its form–
it will know just where to look
amidst the changing hours,
and it will seek me,
with a passion,
simply to sate its pressing thirst–
before it goes once more,
Prowling, prowling,
down the lane.

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