Words of negativity are scraping and clawing against the inside of my skull.
Hoping to leap off my pessimistic tongue and plant seeds of sadness in the minds of others.

But I hold my tongue.
Like I hold onto hope.
Because I know it’s still there.
I just have to repress the haunting thoughts.

My brain is the strongest muscle in my body,
only because it works so hard to repress my tongue.
My heart is in the right place,
but my fists are always balled.

But I hold my punches.
Like I hold onto smiles.
Because I know that people care.
I just have to repress my anger.

Rage and depression go hand in hand.
But i’m fine with that because they help me write.