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The Color of my Anger

Updated on January 31, 2015
The color of my anger
Is a deep, dark red,
The color your car
Drove into my head.
Who ever told you
That I had no right
To what was mine
Before it entered your sight?
I must be assertive,
You do understand,
If your car remains there...

I wrote this a long time ago after an angry encounter with a very selfish woman. I couldn't finish the poem though – I didn't like where it was going.

However it reminds me of a wonderful scene from a film (I think it was "Fried Green Tomatoes") in which a woman, enraged at having her parking stolen, gave the offending car a real battering.

I must admit I was tempted. Of course I didn't do it! Reality is governed by rules that don't apply on the screen.

First there was the practical side. I needed my car. If I had acted on this wicked impulse, my car would have been damaged too, leaving me without transport.

Then there was the cost. Insurance wouldn't have paid for a deliberate "accident" and I certainly couldn't afford to.

And of course there was the law. I don't even want to think about what the legal implications of carrying out such a ghastly deed might have been.

At times like this all I can do is sit and stew in my own anger because I’m not the assertive person my poem was trying to depict. When strangers push me around, I'm powerless to do anything about it.


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