Feisty Quiet
Family know I can be spirited;
Everyone else thinks I’m always composed.
Inside my soul,
Searing control
Takes all of
Your anger transposed.
Quickly I go
Under the deeps,
Into my head,
Ever to keep
To myself.
Words have always been my art: They dance for me and sing for me; They laugh for me and cry for me; They are my paint and brushes; They are my clay.
RRRRow, you fiery filly.
ReplyDeleteNice. Love the image to go with the prompt.
ReplyDelete