I can't understand,
how this anger overtook,
something that could work,
if patience would guide the way.
to realize the lost good.
Help me to believe,
things will never change again.
We could do better,
put the past where it belongs,
locked away where it stays put.
When did this happen,
this pretentious foolish game?
My mouth must stay closed,
or move to forget,
judgment that was never just.
Forgive me for slamming the door,
this is wrong, there need be no more.
sjo/jazz
The Tanka is usually one verse which has 5,7,5,7,7 syllables per line.
I've joined three Tankas and finished with a couplet.
It appears to be easy, but in counting syllables you diminish the words which you can use. I find it a challenge which gives me a little insight into myself and forces me to keep a poem tight and not meander all over.

Piece of trivia, the yellow rose stands for friendship.