Understandable
Anger
Yet
Confused
How

The temperature
Mad at us all
Frying the Earth
Who left the heat on
Sweat beaming down
Heat warnings
But now
Out the window
What do I see
Why
Its none other than the
RAIN
What do you mean
You issue out heat warnings
Just for it to
RAIN
Georgia
WHY?!?!?

I wished you yelled at me
Strike at me, scream at me
Curse me with all the words
Look at me with hatred or disgust

Instead

You stayed quiet
And you let go gently
Whispering those words again
With eyes of hope and heartbreak

Why?

Why did you still love me?
Why did you make this harder?
Why was ending this so **** difficult?
Why did you not end up hating me for it?

Oh

Now I understand
It was hard for both of us
But you were able to live with it
While I can't live with my own choice

I got in trouble so much as a kid
For screaming or yelling at my parents
Siblings
Or anyone else
And it took me 27 years to no longer feel like a wretch for that,
But it finally hit me today:
Why does anyone shout?
They're trying to be heard.
And I shouldn't have had to be so loud
Just for someone to listen.
It's not my fault that I had to scream so loudly
In order for someone to hear me.

Strict parents have obedient children?
Actually no they have children who
Don't feel safe in their own home
Who flinch at loud noises
Who get scared when someone gets too close
Who scream when someone appears randomly
Who shriek when someone tries to touch them
Who go numb in arguments
Who will stare at you when you shout
Who dare to live even in distress
Who will stay awake all night
Who spend their life trying to be the best
Who are ignored unlike the rest
Abandoned , shattered ,
Stressed , always anxious......

To have your last name
makes me ill.
You make me so angry
I want to ****!

I hate your voice
and the thought of you.
You were never there
when I needed you!

You're inconsiderate,
you're a lazy slob.
How could you do
what you did to mom?

It's like you don't
even accept me.
What kind of father
can you be?

You're stupid for thinking
that I'd forgive
what you did to me...to mom... to grandma.
How do you live?

Do you regret?
I hardly doubt.
I bet that I'm
the last thing you think about.

Don't lie to me.
I know I'm right.
I don't want you
in my sight!

Stay where you are;
don't bother.
You're lousy - I hate you
You're not my father!!

But that's okay,
you see,
because I don't need
your love!

You've forgotten
me before.
Go ahead...do it
some more!

LOSER! ****! - I hate you
you're not my father,
and guess what,
I'm no longer
your daughter!

He was ten.
“What is suicide?” he would have said.
But when anger rose he hit himself,
knowing that it should be taken out—
weeded out—
but fearing to slash out.
He was a calm kid because he feared rage.
When he stopped hurting his body,
his words became unkept,
his tears hot with red,
his fists clenched.
He got into fights.
Then he stopped anger all over again,
yet his arms became marked with bites once again.

I cradle hurricanes in my ribcage
while words swirl around my head.
I try to catch the good ones-
but mostly, I wish I was dead.

I do everything too much-
the joy, the sorrow, the dread.
Yet somehow, I’m never enough-
what a curious truth to be force fed.

If I laugh, it’s always too loud;
my mouth too sharp to make anyone proud.
Crying is a dangerous game,
I could sob away a city, drown in the blame.

My rage leaves no survivors,
as if I line people up on personal pyres.
When I vent, they hear preaching-
a sermon no one wants, a fear of my leeching.

I don’t love, I dissect-
obsessively search for the trap I expect.
I can’t just leave; I burn it all down-
the bubbly, funny girl wears a permanent frown.

I do too much and my inner child feels seen,
She's acting out, we aren't this mean
I just get scared when the vibe is off, and ruining the mood makes the blow more soft.

Despite the chaos I still crave love, an equal partner, wearing fireproof gloves.