angry.
the type of anger that makes you feel like a kettle pot, steam blowing out of your ears, high pitched screams rumbling in your chest waiting to come out.
so infuriating that you feel not even the pits of hell could burn as much as your body.
like multiple earthquakes, it's epicenter being you. you can't help but destroy the things around you, it helps the heat fade.
but then it's back. over and over again. your world becomes filled with people you no longer want to talk to, their red clouded faces fusing with your red filled mind.
it goes on until it controls you, not the other way around. it continues to a point where you no longer can form words or know what to think, all you know is that you have so much to be angry about.
you don't know why.
you don't know how.
but eventually, anger is what you become. it becomes a second name. it becomes your life.
and instead of anger being a foreign emotion, happiness is.
YOU ARE READING
collection
Poetryyou've probably stumbled upon this book in a matter of coincidence. this book is the most confusing, most randomly compiled thing to ever exist most likely. practically anything that i have purely and deeply thought, written, or felt, is in this boo...
