Refraction.

Anger.

Tempers frayed,
Speaking louder and louder
Until I began to shout.
It was my father's voice
That left my lips;
His aggression, his callous words.
Such misdirected anger,
The lapse of self-control...
I'd sworn to never become
The man who broke me,
To never be cruel or cold.
It was my own voice,
But suddenly I was a child again:
I was the child too afraid to cry,
The child that lived in fear
Of being given something to cry about.
Where is there to run
When my father lives inside of me?
How am I to feel safe and loved
When he haunts my dreams?
The constant ridicule, heart thumping
When I hear
His footsteps coming down the hall.
There is no peace, no sanctuary,
Just the calm before the storm.
I am spiralling, I know -
I've shouted but once,
Kept my hands to myself,
Neither threatening nor malicious,
Just emotional, just human.
I remind myself that anger is normal,
But I know better than to let it
Take control.
It manifests as my father's did,
So I subvert it into something else;
Into sadness, into fear.
It will pass, it has passed, but I
Long to exorcise his ghost.
It is not enough to merely subdue
The beast within;
The child cannot rest
Knowing that the monster sleeps
Beneath their bed.