old friend anger

Like an old friend,
Anger doesn’t knock;
He just lets himself in.
He has heard the news and he
Comes to sympathize, and to offer
Suggestions about what I should do.
“Hit him!” he says.  “Kick, scratch,
Bite use weapons if you
Have to!”  But I know  that he is
Not my friend, just an enemy that
Has a key.  I ask him to leave; he sits down.
I tell him to go; he puts his feet up.
Anger wore out his welcome long ago,
But he still comes,
Like a neighbor who can’t get the hint,
He comes over with advice and adrenaline,
Refusing to be ignored.
Sometimes he stays for a few minutes.
Sometimes he doesn’t leave for days, weeks.
And sometimes, like today,
He brings his scrapbook, and I know
We will end up looking through it together,
At the memories of mockery, pain,
Misunderstanding, and hatred, him trying
To provoke me into acting, me trying to
Kick him out.  But every time I
Tell him to leave, I am reminded
That you can’t be forceful with a houseguest
Without Anger.