Quiet Rage


A quiet rage, felt 
as each word 
bled upon the page.
  
The keys succumbed, 
as she pounded out the passion 
of her emotions.
  
The white page, 
dirtied with ink, 
poured from her veins;
 
her fervor, 
a torrential flood.  

Each falsehood, 
each deception, 
released amid the black letters 
carried along behind the cursor.  

The innocence.  

Once, 
a clean view of the world, 
heaved up like a sick dog.  

That pure vision, 
flung carelessly aside.  

She wrote for the 
pain 
of it 
being torn from her.

The keyboard let her
scream
and cry
and curse.

Ignoring the 
polite 
civilities of 
society.   

The filth 
her heart now consumed, 
left her feeling vile, 
empty and diseased.  

The words, 
an outlet, 
for the injustices 
of her past.

Copyright (C) 2019 Penny Wilson

*The words “quiet rage” came to me and would not let go of me until I did something with them.  

23 thoughts on “Quiet Rage

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