Rage

I conceal my rage
from day to day
It nonetheless consumes me.
I cut down trees
of hate and build
forests into fences,
walling out my mind
from painful people,
things half hidden
in the gloom.
The world sees only
sullen irritation.
It consumes me
to become like this.
The flow of
casual conversation
eludes me.
I am useless
in a chat.
It angers me
to say that.