my fury,
a deep dark red
boiling under the calmness of butterfly words
miss-interpreted by mis-information
by total arrogance
and lack of mutual respect
my anger
evokes a buffer of "whatever"
without a moment to pause
at thousand words uttered
to demand I, that deserved it
what strangers receive freely
even the check out girl
gets greeted in proper fashion
however it seems
to be assured of your worth
(seemingly in your mind)
forfeits my right
(seemingly in your mind)
thus
should my anger,
softly boiling on the stove
not be to your taste
remember
I cook
with the ingredients
you handed me