Emotions are something so complex —

Tangled, fierce, and full of effects.

The contradiction is in what we detect.

Why are they vivid, yet shrouded in haze?

When named, it’s anger that steps into gaze.

How can a single muscle tense so hard?

The clenching of a fist, the urge to punch and discard.

They rise like lava — hot, wild, and bold —

Then stay inside, like a volcano cold.

Does that make any difference,

Or is it just a bare classification?

We are a home to some,

A house full of some.

Is that how swords are used in disguise?

I search for answers in a fog so dense,

But every time, it just grows more intense.

I am the silence and the scream,

Caught somewhere between fire and dream.

Harmony is what I can't perceive,

When they all flood, and all I sense is the anger drowning me.