A cloud latched to the top of my head. 
Fogging the road ahead. 

Was I destined to carry this rage? 
Was it a choice I made along the way? 

However it happened,
It locked me in its cage. 

Controlling my lips,
With strings 
Attached to its grip. 

Rage stopped looking like him,
And started looking like the face,
Staring back in the mirror

Years of running but, 
She is faster, 
She is stronger.
Headed for an early grave.

Now,
When she roars violently, 
I whisper softly.  
When she shakes my bones, 
I hold her tight. 

When she grabs the reigns,
I wrap my hands over hers,
I tell her gently:
“This does not serve us anymore.”