I have nothing but anger in my bones.
Even an x-ray would find no marrow.
And, since they don’t hurt, I find sticks and stones
Cannot get me on the straight and narrow.
I still yearn for nothing more than to break
The skin, pierce the flesh, tear out my own hair.
I never did, for my family’s sake,
But the crushing desire is still there.
What could possibly temper my temper,
That beast that no man could ever control?
It went with not a fight, but a whimper,
Tamed by another’s compassionate soul.
That gentle lion tamer now has left,
Leaving just a cub, morose and bereft.