I can’t handle confrontation.
I’d rather let anger seep through my veins,
till my blood boils to the rim of my skin,
and bursts from deep within.

I’d rather keep it all inside,
stitched through my body,
a story of the untold,
hidden behind crevices of my disheartened soul.

You see anger swims through my body like fish in the sea,
but why should I confront a feeling that’s a part of me?
why should I tell you; I’m upset, I’m angry?
don’t you see we all handle pain differently?