Anger

Even though it is composed of chemical-purity, 
it still decays. 
A dab, clothes a new-borne in celestial protection, 
whilst one can drown in but a sip. 
Sterilized it rinses surfaces of their pollutants, 
let it sit, chastise its desire to run and it will stagnate. 
It falls freely to feed the soil below, 
yet disgruntled it shall stew and catalyze rust. 
It’s tendrils, trickle and taper down lovers-backs, 
Yet its embrace is tempered, its stare a mirror of yours 
Merrily it meanders through a mountainous empire, 
Yet suffocated it swells, waiting to wreak its wrath upon your town.. 
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ANother of my practice-pieces, hopefully i'll kick start my mental motor again, 
because its coughing black smoke and the oily residue of academic text is not 
easily cleaned up.. 
 
DAMN IT, The poems name is :: 
Dihydrogen Oxide. Not Hydrogen Dioxide, entirely different compound.

Hydrogen dioxide