Poem #5

[oxomiya]

Edited S1:

Stared down
By boiling eyes.
Abuses simmering
Delivered warm.

Words emanating
Punches projecting.
Not heard, not felt
But understood.

I smell the fumes
While waiting to burn
In your ire.

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Original:

Stared down
By two big pots
Of boiling porridge

Words emanating
And punches projecting.
Not heard, not felt
But understood.

I can smell the fumes
While waiting to burn
In your ire.