Pre-Empting
I won't store hate up for anybody I'll only stay mad at the ghost of my grudge Too many skeletons of my own for me to judge Simmer softer and softer, pre-empting a boil Rattlesnake rage sounds off but won't uncoil to strike venom into victimizers because I decided not to let it Stooping to their level would victimize myself, forget it The level of their actions, I mean to say Their virtue's height isn't decided by just one day or just by how they acted towards me alone Ticked but not triggered, I'll make knowing known as necessary to ward them off if they aim to become repeat offenders Once was enough for what should happen never When they took me for a fool they looked downright foolish I'm downgrading my wrath to rumination and pausing to breathe through it Anger was alive, it used to demand revenge on my part Breaking faces diverted attention from the fact of my broken heart But in my 40s I guess I'm finally too adult I don't kick asses, I kiss crosses I'm bored of assigning fault I'm turning you down temper, sorry We're not afraid of character development are we?
This piece feels like someone speaking from the middle of their life, finally honest about how anger once shaped their every reaction.
The poem carries the voice of a person who still feels rage rattling inside, but now chooses not to let it steer their hands or their dignity.
There is something deeply human in admitting that grudges don’t disappear they just lose their power when we stop feeding them.
The refusal to strike back reads like a quiet act of self‑respect, a decision not to wound oneself in the name of justice.
You can feel the maturity in recognizing that one moment of cruelty doesn’t define a person’s entire character, not even the ones who hurt us.
The shift from wrath to reflection feels like someone learning to breathe through pain instead of breaking under it.
The confession that violence once masked a broken heart is tender, raw, and disarmingly honest.
Reaching one’s forties becomes a turning point not resignation, but a softer, steadier kind of strength.
“I kiss crosses” lands like someone choosing grace over retaliation, not out of weakness but out of hard‑earned wisdom.
And the final line feels like a half‑smile toward the self: growth is uncomfortable, but it’s happening, and they’re finally ready to let it.