WRATH

What is one’s wrath?

When thou art lost in thine path,
In the midst of acrimony,
Must you be in grave anatomy.

Words like spewing venom,
Asperity making thee a demon.
Animus thou shalt show,
Ye shan’t grow although.

Wither thou go,
Wilt go thine foe.
Poison might be his deed,
Thy be civil till thou bleeds.

Durst thee to be his bosom buddy,
Be not whit a soul so bloody.
Prithee does no talt,
When thou at fault.