Anger

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I'm an enraged woman with a screaming little girl stuck inside.
She's throwing a tantrum.
She's screaming at the top of her lungs.
She's waiting to be heard but no one is listening.
It's like she talks and all they do is stare.
I feel sorry for her.
She's sad, lonely,
desperately craving attention
or some form of affection.
From anyone.
From anything.
She gets angry and she punishes herself.
She goes in her room and cries in her closet.
She's tired of trying.
She's tired of apologizing.
She writes letters,
slides them under doors,
after she says hurtful things,
that she swears she didn't mean.
She apologizes endlessly for her mistakes.
She's always been so apologetic.
No one cares.
No one apologizes back.
Adults tell her
"Sorry doesn't mean anything".
All these "sorrys",
She hands them out like adults giving candy on Halloween.
All these sorrys,
she fears
don't mean anything.
She represses.
She holds back.
And it builds,
And builds,
And builds some more.
Til.
Finally.
She explodes.
She throws her tantrum.
An enraged woman,
And a little girl,
Both fighting to be seen
Both fighting to be heard.

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