She was beside me in the morning,
Smiling at every word I say,
Every other’s company seemed futile,
What they spoke were just murmurs.

She was before me in the noon,
Angry like a cat with a bent back.
My life, which was given by her eyes.
Was being ripped off by her words.

She was behind me in the evening,
Tears rolling over her cheeks onto
The overpriced dress. Filling her bag
With clothes and me with rage.

The things I regret the most were
Done in rage; words and actions
Defy the mind, leaving it to regret later.
But not today.

She was beneath me in the night,
Stuffed along with others like her
Under my carpet.

Published by DeceptiveMinds

To every soul who is reading this, by day we are two guys who drudge through the thing called life and by night we write about it.

11 thoughts on “Rage

      1. right. well i know people in rage that do always regret it. even if after the facto. anyway. i think everyone gets enraged or regrets things. preempting they are not is thinking one possesses an omniscient power they really do not have (call that egocentric?) – no matter how almost perfect and conscious they are. hope you sort out your rage and troubles. nice week to you.

        Liked by 1 person

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