Misdirected

His rage,
misdirected
as he knows
no other way
in which
to cope

I did nothing to provoke
his verbal attack,
yet here he stands,
right up in my face

A man can only allow
so much bullshit,
I push him back
his head hits the wall,
and my hand finds it's way
to his throat,
squeezing his windpipe

He tries
to swing

But barely
connects,
and I
taste blood

So I tighten my grip
until he ceases to move

Problem solved,
I got my point across,
so I get on with my day

Next time I saw him
I apologized,
and I have no idea why,
he asked for it

But I suppose
someone has to be
the bigger man

So I bought him a beer