Abuse creates anger in the abused. The anger percolates if left in an undigested state, and the abused lash back at all of creation feeling entitled to rage while knowing this voice does nothing to shed inner torments.
Suffering serves as fuel for self righteousness, past trauma erodes present tranquility. Pain justifies all transgressions, the angst drives the will, and suffering begets suffering when the ego seeks to get even.
Brutish words foment beneath the surface, they plead to be uttered in frittered fragile moments, but the wiser mind is a patient one, it waits for the mental twister to pass so that words can be spoken with courage and clarity.
In anger we say too much when what was needed are moments of silence, not anger. Anger is death, both spoken aloud and held internally.
I say too much.
You say too much.
We say too much.
Transmute into better.
