Curses

_{Anger is a beastly thing,
all ammonia and aneurysms,
making damsels dismal and
destroying determination.
I have tried to teach
myself to ignore its teeth
and now every bite becomes
only a taste on my tongue,
for I snap back with alliteration,
replacing fury with confused consideration
and sometimes humor.
Curses become a crutch
on which a weaker mind will lean,
so I force myself to stand sometimes
and think of what my words mean.}






Saying "fuck" feels good when I'm angry, but it feels a little bit like giving up. So I use alliteration, which forces me to think of what I'm saying & whether or not I'll regret saying it later.