The tarnished anger in her eyes

never once betrayed the lack

of emotional pity that her voice

played tricks with;

that her brittle anger disguised

deep seated resentment for all things

that smiled.

 

The smile, confused and beautiful,

shrank her in wake

as she waged war, voluntarily despised

the tears of flowing radiance;

yet somewhere deep inside the smile

raised the flag of disarmament, of peaceful

solution, the smile would just not appear

in her presence, instead it would save

itself for someone empty of hatred.

 

The battle won, the embittering tumour

grew more wild and the distaste

rank and suspicious tumbled out

of bed each morning,

yawning,

and with paranoia gnawing at her soul,

wondered why, one freezing winter day,

the smile had left, taking the chance to

be homeless rather than live in fear anymore.

 

Ian D. Hall 2016