Human Clay

The last thing he wants to be angry
The woman, his wife, whom he loves
But with every twist, turn, and emotions betray
Realizing the destructive outcome.

Why will she not talk about her feeling?
It leaves him lost, alone in a dense fog,
Where do broken hearts begin healing?
The silence is distractive and destructive.

She has placed him in a holding pattern,
Like a prisoner, on death row’s final night,
Hanging in the wind, twisting and turning.
Death would be the welcomed companion.

Anger leads to fiery hate in human clay.
The last thing he wants is to feel angry,
But that is how he lives each lonely day,
And his soul screams to lash out at her.