Anger's Fire

Eyes burning with anger
as though any moment
flames could burst forth,
burn you where you stand;

the thought is pleasant –
perhaps it should be so simple
to just make you vanish,
never to stress me again.

But there you stand,
smirking in that mocking way
you always do, claiming
victory with my compliance.

Every part of me screams,
commands me to hurt you,
say the words that burn in my mind,
throw these long clenched fists

towards those wretched green eyes
reflecting the flames of the hell
you must have been born from,
the bastard of Satan himself.

But wisdom whispers what I want
and what is best are
two very different things
(when will they finally be the same?),

and I instead turn my face away,
holding back and breathing deep
while the flames eat at my eyes,
waiting for wisdom to at last abate.