my mind doesn't work right when it has to
and i come home to sulk
never anymore, to do
and yes.
i am angry

i am too sad to cry
too angry to yell
not ready yet, to speak.

i wish my hands could speak for me
but they're bound
and with every struggle,
it is tightened

im starting not to see anything beyond this
i blink and im here again
pinch myself and im still here
you always wake up from sleep

and alright, I don't have the guts to **** myself
my mother has drilled hell in my brain like a nail
but hell isnt a place
its a feeling
a presence
or a lack there of.

and so yes
i am angry.
ive played so many songs on wordless strings
strung chords to sound like sobbing
and for what?
i am still angry
and tomorrow i will be angry
i will blink, and still
ill remain angry
and when you wake up from your slumber,
you will stretch out the feeling in your bones
relish in the last seconds of moonlight
you will look outside,
see the sun,
see the people,
see yourself,
and you will still be angry.
you will be played unfairly and be angry.
you will always remain the way you are.

it a scary thing to face alone,
anger, or bitterness.
but perhaps the scariest of them all,
is the length we will go to escape it.

be angry
be bitter
but always play fair.