I never understood when my father would say he "just sees red". Until I became just like him. I inherited his blood and his rage too. I blamed everything on him then became just like him. Anger is my second language. I don't know if I could ever unlearn it. I got nothing else from him not my noise, not my eyes, not even my height, but his rage was born in me. It's like his rage doubled when I formed opinions and then he decided to spilt it in half and place it in me. He shoved it so far down my throat I'm having trouble breathing. I try to cough it out but just end up spitting my rage on everyone else. I don't want to be angry then I wonder if he to is the same way. I'm still trying to figure out how to not be half him. I'm still trying to figure out how to not be angry.
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The live's I've lived
PoetryThis is a collection of poems and pieces of writing. That I have written over the last 2 years of my life. I've never been one to actually live. To take the risk. A lot of the things I have written are about things that have happened in my head. Or...
