im angry enough to type this
but not sure if im angry enough to make this specific

im angry and i hate that i want to make it small and quiet
so that it might go unnoticed

im so angry because im disappointed in the people ive given trust:
already caked with glue and long abused

im angry cause i can't be ******* sure if this pattern of being wrung dry is more about them
or me

i hate them but i hate me too
and i war with being alone or otherwise a planet in their orbits of conceit
  what is my life worth? (i don't think the value is much)

i used to write such pretty poetry
but now it's plain and matter of fact.
i just want to ******* scream exactly what i mean and burn metaphors to the ground

i came to say im angry without particular cause
so here i am and im angry and
poetry doesn't do a ******* thing anymore