Psychotic bipolar tale of a loved one, part 1

Anger is a holed-up badger
Claws and teeth a-blazin’

This is where his mind is,
In a holed-up place
Where sweetness is in low supply,
So all meanness comes a-rushin’ in

Turnin’ his blue eyes green,
His crusty lip turnin’ under, defiantly
As he spat out his words, snarlin’

Inches from the nurses’ desk at the hospital,
All drama for a cell phone in a dead zone,
Far, far, far away from the deep, fragrant woods.

© 2009