Another Host

Tucked tail and head hung

low at raised voices and glasses

in the kitchen, sin dripping from

warm pots and clenching between

my fingers

the chest always grows three sizes

too big, not from a kind heart but

a boiling rage, bubbling forth from

my frustrated perfectionism,

a cracked plate echoing my soul's

condition

is this a sin? Surely not, we all

get mad, and yet blood is fresh

in my mouth and my hand, the

pain is screaming to find another

Host,

I bite back words and repeat,

"if you can't say something nice..."

walls catch me before I can say it

and I'm off my feet and searching

for an exit from the anguish

pulling me down and the dog

tucks his tail and whines in the

corner as we continue to yell.

#SevenDeadlySins #People #Anger