Ricochet

She dispenses the lava of her wrath,
molten and churning with chunks of regret,
into everyone she meets,
measuring it into compartments,
like ice cubes.

After the rage has congealed,
incubated inside its human receptacles,
she drinks the resentment,
as the now cold, cutting blocks
of offense freeze her tongue,
but only momentarily.

by Sonny Rainshine

Comments (1)

This reminds me of a certain evil biach that has reappeared in this space Sonny! Yeah! you got the cow in one. Smiling at you, Tai