I am master of those who are weak.
I am the other form of tears, and
I stay in disguise.
I am thought to be with the brave, the valiant.
But, I am not.
The weak take my help
As they get afraid by even the slightest provocation.
I control their minds, I control their actions.
They are my puppets
As I am their master, I am the Anger.
I am afraid of the brave.
Brave are those who smile at their enemies.
Brave are those who hug the angered
Brave are those who love.
I become weak in their presence.
I am the Anger, and they are my masters.