When she was the one who loved me, she asked:

"How can you be some calm?"

Less of a question,
more of an accusation,
as all arguments possess.

I found it interesting.

I'm sure at the time
my answer was melancholy
Sad, even.

In truth, I couldn't answer.
Not properly.
Not in the moment.

The reason is simple.

I think there is something
inherently beautiful
in being a person born
from violence,
rage,
hatred.
Evil.

And through all of that
being someone who
until their last scrap patience
will choose a path of calm,
peaceful,
gentle.
Sadness.

It is easier to be angry
than it is to be sad.

I would rather be sad
than point the anger I bury
at you.