Spice Rack

When repressed emotions reach the surface, they crash through my floodgates, like raging bulls in thin, red curtains.
They seep into my bloodstream with poison worse than gunpowder bullets.
No words remain to ease the suffering, that stains my soul with spice & sorrow.
Saffron shames me like a scarlet letter, so I submit to its turmeric terror.
I'm not a slave until it beats me into bonded labour; it's on those days I wish that I were braver.
Like all things else, it fades away; time has always been my sweetest saviour.