In the heart of a storm, where shadows grow tall,
Lies a fury unspoken, yet heard by all.
It whispers in silence, a deafening cry,
As rage paints the sunset, across the sky.

The tempest within, it churns and it swells,
A cauldron of fire, where resentment dwells.
Eyes burn with passion, yet filled with despair,
As anger takes flight, on the wings of the air.

Chains of composure, now broken and torn,
By the claws of vexation, sharp and forlorn.
Each breath is a battle, each word is a war,
In the heart of the storm, where peace is no more.

When the fury subsides, and the echoes fade,
The scars of the tempest, in shadows are laid.
Silence returns, but the memory stays,
Of the anger that ruled, in those turbulent days.