The Anger Room
Sonnet 168
Sonnet 168
Sounds of crashing, cracking, clanking, splint'ring
From the room do burst the air around
As the objects one by one are lying
Broken in pieces on the marble ground,
Under the angryman's relishing eyes,
While the avenging hands and legs run riot.
At last the anger's got the vent that carries
No crime, no guilt, no grief, and on the quiet
Does the man appease his burning soul.
Though costly is this novel deed to peace,
Yet anger at the lifeless means no toll
On human beings -- a bypass much to cherish.
Hats off to China for this fine creation;
A global fix against the vile emotion.
©️ N P Samal

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