An overreaction…

A little wee molehill

started it’s day,

discussing a comment

it overheard someone say.

Words took on tones

and the tones became loud,

and the molehill grew bigger

with the noise of the crowd.

Tempers erupted

and proportions were blown,

and the molehill kept growing

each time anger was shown.

War was declared,

and so ends this recount,

of the little wee molehill,

that grew into a mount.

 

 

 

.

 

 

 

Remote Control…

A brick wall of hostility.

Impossible to break through it.

Any attempt is wrong.

No attempt is rude.

The silent treatment.

A most powerful tool.

Bomb shell…

From out of nowhere.

Harmonic destruction.

Stunned silence.

Scattered pieces.

Devastation erupts.

Questions surface.

Anger registers.

Sadness sets in.

Aftershocks ripple.

 

 

 

.

Scare tactics…

You cannot force my love

You won’t keep me with a scare

I don’t respect your anger

I refuse to live in fear.

I can’t be always wrong

You can’t control the way I feel

I won’t surrender to your violence

This time we’re over.

This time, for real.

 

 

Sometimes…

♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

You’re nasty to me.Walking on Eggshells

well,

mostly you’re kind

I know your heart’s soft,  down deep inside

I like hearing you laugh, we share jokes to and fro

then out of the blue, your anger does blow

I feel so small and scared and weak

whatever I say you class as cheek.

I don’t want to leave cos we’ve been through so much

So I’ll patiently wait til love’s back in your touch…