The Letters I Have Sent

Those hot words that spew forth,
Full of righteous indignation,
That spit venom and serve the lash,
A silent yet screaming creation.

Reactive text to honour its master,
Written faster than consideration allows;
Set down with vengeful wrath
And vitriolic castigation.

The vehemence should sound a warning,
But these words need out,
They’re instinctively justifiable
Deeply indited wounds.

Perhaps you should sleep on it.
Let the words percolate,
Let the emotion dissipate,
Then delineate once more.

But I scratch my musings with the fire,
I hammer at keyboards with musical rage,
Then, in the end, I send,
Because this animal fights back.

Leave your thought.