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I am pain, a giver of dread
slight though my slipped tongue might seem
some poison mixes into a waiting mouth
just enough, to sting
I am sorrow, a minds burden
imaginings of those things in passions past
darkening images held in the heart
just enough to fade
I am hell, burnt bastard of being
holding your heart to this inferno I live
roasting emotions in simmering juices of life
Just enough to singe the one I Love
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Holding onto anger is like grasping a hot coal with the intent of throwing it at someone else; you are the one who gets burned. - Buddha
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