Metamorphose - A Sonnet

These blighted words rain down from angry lips

Like flying poisoned arrows meant to wound,

And whispers hold my ego in their grips

Intents of venom efforts now attuned.

I struggle weakly with these words of pain

To ward off verbal arrows from sharp tongue,

But I find these efforts to be in vain

This inner battle is not often won.

How can I conquer this unruly beast?

To calm the anger burning in my chest,

And find unwilling prisoner released

To finally find I have passed this test.

I must let gentle wisdom lead my soul

And grant fixed Reason rule of self-control.