Titles Suck When They're Forced Upon You

All the things within my mind
Circle 'round like serpent vines
It's a wonder that I find the time
To trim them back and shape them fine.

To make them grow into a thing
That keeps me free and lets me sing
To let them flower with Joy to bring
That gives to me this set of wings

All the strife and all my toil
All my emotions - Set to boil
A tempered rage; Again foiled
To feel the pulse of my own recoil

Winds of blame, across my skin
A veiled tempest - There within
A lasting scowl inside my grin
Another time - Another win

~The Snowdog