The Bottle In My Head
There is a bottle in my head,
by Dankaro Osazee
Whose lid I keep tightly shut.
But even with all my might
The gas within, long over full and bubbling
Still try to get out
Though I do not wish it to.
Because, for every whiff that escapes
Out comes biting cynicism and a disgruntled personae
For every puff, a physical out lash is the result
Of anger and rage and madness.
Perhaps I have kept the bottle for too long
And its contents, my despair, has festered
Frustrations, disappointments, anger, malice
All mixed into a bitter foul smelling gruel.
Maybe it is time to let in air
To run and scream, and shout and dance
And cry and laugh and live out dreams
To gradually take of the lid and let its contents dissipate.
Throw out the bottle and make it disappear
And be free.