Old Fights

I look back on times in the past when I shouted,
times when I've raised my temper, my fists.
The anger refreshes, fear rises anew.
Old emotions congeal from the past's cloudy mists.

I still know I'm right, I could not be at fault.
There's no reason at all I should be feeling shame.
I tell myself this, and it keeps repeating,
to quell the suspicion that I AM to blame.

Possible circumstance plays through my head.
what if I'd yielded to anger, to pride?
what if I'd struck him, if he had struck me?
and then what if we fought until someone had died?

Then my head erupts with primordial urges.
I search for something to vent my frustration.
my teeth and hands clench, My heart starts to race.
As a chance memory becomes a fixation.

It lingers too long, weighing down on my mind.
I'd clear the thoughts out, if only I could.
I'd snap my fingers and rid these demons.
if I only knew how, I know I would.