Foaming rage, turbulent, unrelenting, bubbling inside,
ready to explode.
Contained merely by a whim, afraid to give in to it,
white with age, jumping all around inside a tight-knit
spot.
Not able to leap out and ruin the world of a little
child, kept locked up by secret memories and images.
RoseAnn V. Shawiak
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/childhood-anger/
