i was mad.
furious even
and the only thing
i could do to get
this bottled up
anger and hatred—
that almost seemed
to stem from nothing
yet something at the
same time—
was to throw something,
anything.
yet i had no desire to break
or shatter anything. if i did
i'd probably only end up
breaking or shattering myself;
a bottle full of tension and anger.
so i grabbed a shirt,
rolled it up into
a tight ball and hurled
it across my room.
a closet's worth of
clothes later, my
mom walks in.
and she looks at me
and i look at her,
and she picks up a
shirt.
she hurls it across the room too.
so together we grab what
seems to be an endless
amount of clothes, and
throw them across my room.
my anger radiates off of me
and my mom soaks it in,
taking the weight of unwanted
emotions off my shoulders.
but im still mad.
and so we keep throwing
random shirts and pants
across my room.
until anger no longer
fuels my rage filled
body.
and so now we sit,
side by side,
and we smile.
because anger no
longer hangs like
clothes in my closet.
__
this is made up, but in class i had to write about a time where someone surprised me and this is what i got.
