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Anger

It hurtled without friction or pause.

The intensity of its propulsion leeched from a stranglehold of the desperate fear of a fleeing rabbit

Whose heart skitters as though it would burst from its chest.

And also from the fungus growing kind of pain that eats its host from the inside out.

The anger was born there.

And flies

Forming no words

Raw and pure.

It becomes a resounding slap in the face of yet another injustice

Delivered swiftly and forcefully.

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Comments on: "Anger" (2)

  1. Great economy of words, Kellianne. Love the first line!

    Don’t think you need the apostrophe in ‘its” though?

  2. Thank you Dean. xo And thank you for the grammatical advice. I always get mixed up with “its”. I also can never spell “definitely” right the first time!

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