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Boiling
May 11, 2023
I keep a pot of anger on my stove, simmering.
But the heat has been too high recently,
and my anger has begun to boil.
Bubbles form, and burst.
Splashing,
Burning,
whoever tries to cool it down.
And I don’t turn off the heat,
or pour out the pot.
Because I can hold it and keep warm.
I would rather burn up and melt with fury
Than freeze from wintry sadness and icy despair.
So I keep the pot close
Trying, perhaps in vain, to hold my anger tight,
and bottle it up
Without burning myself.
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This poem is inspired by my frustrations with my senior year of high school, particularly issues with my extracurricular activities and the other people who participate in them.