Blackened In Contrast

She’s been on the warpath fairly frequently lately,

Riding the darkness of her rage,

As it crests to fruition,

Erupting like fireworks in a rampage.

***

She doesn’t mind the waves of emotion,

Boiling like week old coffee in a pot,

She let’s off steam in her crazy fashion,

Allowing the release of her fury in small starts and stop.

***

Crimson parings form upon her cheeks,

Like Mother Nature’s natural blush,

As her blood begins to simmer,

Her pressure cooker’s valve explodes in a rush.

***

She’s become uncontrollable as a bottled charm,

Hesitant to open herself wide,

If anyone gets too close,

She’ll box you in with her anger or she’ll shelter inside and hide.

***

Weary feet, tired of running constantly,

Marathons run on the verse of a feeling,

No relief, no nearing finish line,

Just a heartache that leaves her reeling.

***

Hiding behind her curly bangs,

Eyes closed in surrender,

Tears swell from her ducts, rain drop expressions,

Her heart bruised and tender.

***

She hastens the sadness, striving for the end,

A stone wedged in the pit of her belly,

Worrisome, problematic, out of sorts for sure,

While wielding the defences necessary to protect her underbelly.

***

She’ll take every risk in view,

Her courage and strength is one most would dream for,

She may be down but she’ll soon stand once more,

Dressed in her emotional armour she always wore.

***

Night has now raised the dead,

The forgotten elders of her family’s historical blood,

Whispering silently in her head,

As her shame drains and dips through an emotional flood.

***

Tomorrow will be the relief she desires,

Flying through the stressors of the weeks past,

She’s still fighting strong, never defeated,

A vessel of beauty, fear and rage, blackened in contrast.

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Originally posted on Medium