rage comes to roost so easily 
in me
my sternum 
my throat
home to a pot boiling over
finding it’s prideful place
feels the injustice of things not going as planned
the children all awake when they should be peacefully splayed
hears the thump of a foot kicking wall
and flies off the handle
will you let them?
will you let them?
but nothing seems to yield 
once my heart has gotten wrapped too tight
now bulging
forcing the key that doesn’t fit in the lock
because it should fit
because it has to
because for years I contorted myself
to fit the key
when I sensed that was needed
and now
time
so cruel
has me shouldering the door with all my might

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