Anger

A rock perches on a hill

Being tormented by snow, wind, and rain.

Looking down upon a town,

With a feeling of grudging disdain.

It seems to yell, scream, and roar,

At that beautiful village door.

The anger it feels at being alone

Tumbles down on a wall of stone.

Always elements are beating its soul,

It is a miracle pebbles are the only things to roll,

Holding its place with thin roots of anger

Seemingly an opposing danger.

Then once a man feeling beaten and down

Came to sit on the rock, like an ominous crown

Looking down on the peaceful happy hamlet

The man added his cry to that of the of the rock's own lament

The man is no longer but the rock is still there

With a heart breaking brooding,

Staring down at the town,

Holding his roots of anger with a frown.