By Shem Onderi
Nobody needs it.
It reflects my inner self—my emotions, poorly.
It exposes the part of me that rises beyond normal.
My anger lasts only a short while,
Too brief, yet it leaves great destruction.
It boils beyond measure.
I wish I knew where it resides within me,
So I could extract it completely—or leave but a tender root,
That I might spare myself, and not lose that job,
That I might not lose that friend,
That opportunity, because anger mastered me.
See, my anger troubles others,
Brings discomfort to the innocent.
It exposes the weaker me,
The one hidden beneath the gentle side people know.
Anger robs me of dignity;
It erodes the calm stature I possess.
It reveals the unlearned part,
That which no teacher ever taught.
Oh, my anger—grant me peace to enjoy order.
Take leave, a long vacation, far from me.
Spare me the abuses that pour from my mouth.
Anger, I want to know your lineage.
Through you, I broke someone’s ribs;
I wounded another’s heart and mind.
I was arrested, detained, and jailed.
A small distraction ruins me deeply—and then, anger rises.
My anger is like software infected by a virus,
Disrupting, at times violently, the operation of the hardware—
Affecting the body, manifesting ruthlessly.
Nobody needs it. For now, I will keep it.