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There was a monster of rage in me.

Destroying everything in my path.

Bravest warriors failed to quell my anger.

I crossed my threshold of control.

Just then I heard a voice of an angel.

"Hey big guy..." she said boldly.

"Sun's getting real low..." And she offered me her hand.

Twas' on that day I felt - only a beauty can tame the beast,

Like a river of love, pacifying,

The anger of fire.

I placed my monstrously-mammoth hand,

On her petty-soft palm;

And felt the whirls of rage fleeting away from my self,

Filling my mind with stillness, which I craved.

I could see her panting, gasping in fear,

Yet she didn't move her tiny palm a bit,

As I swayed my green hammer like hand on it.

I felt my pain being oozed out from me,

When her gentle fingers swirled on my aching arm.

Her healing touch was like an embrace of silken robe,

On my agonizing soul.

Twas' when I again smelled the fresh air, and felt the cold-breeze on my battered-body,

Felt the Sun's warmth, and listened to the chirping of the larks, the rustling of trees.

Twas' when I descended back to my human-self,

From the monster I'm cursed to become time & again.

Twas' when I found solace under the shade of oak.

She was the one who made me human again,

Who calmed me down,

Whenever my rage took over.

© Kishan Trivedi
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#MCU #hulk #blackwidow #beautyandthebeast #movie #avengers #writcopoem #fantasy