I am anger.

I dress in scarlet red,
I need an outlet,
anything or anybody.
I am related to bitterness,
I am birthed,
in your darkest moments.
Who am I?


Reading between the lanes



Reading between the lanes

It’s like I could tell everything
about you just by the way
you approached the roundabout
and the type of car you were driving.
Always getting your own way
and probably driven.
I just didn’t want to hang
about and cross swords with you.
So I nimbly turned right, went in
front of you and hoped you wouldn’t
get angry.