I hate this feeling .
This feeling of not knowing
This from that
Up from down
Right from left
Happiness from
Anger.
Oh but I know anger .
I know anger better than I know me.
Anger knows me better than my own mother .
Anger conceived me , it birthed me .
It fed me the darkness
and
Clothed me in hate.
When no one else would stay,
Anger was the one who showed me the way.
Even if that way led me into the deepest, darkest hole imaginable.
Death.

Death isn’t the monster it is made out to be .
It isn’t the noise under your bed,
The shadow in your closet,
Or the one who “stole” my sister.
Death is a savior .
A protecter.
A liberator.
Death is a guardian angel
Disguised as the devil .
Oh , how could it be Satan ?
If it releases you from a life of pain
And envelopes you into a hug of shadows ?
Soft and overwhelmingly complete.
Death is the mother I always wanted my own mother to be .