You've got me wrapped around your finger, tight enough that I can't see past your red glaze anymore.
I'm so angry.
It feels like everything decided to fall apart at the same exact time, and you took advantage of my vulnerability.
Now I'm just so enraged.
Little things set be on edge, because the big things have knocked me lose and I'm teetering on the verge of a mental break down.
My anger is married to sadness, they're glued at the hip.
I get so mad that tears run from my eyes in fear. I hate being angry, yet I can't seem to stop.
I hate the way my anger morphs my view of people, how it can sharpen my thoughts into something entirely different.
Now, all I do is snap trenchantly at those who don't deserve it; and cower at those who do deserve to be cut down a few notches.
I must be dreadful,
because I can't tell who deserves and who doesn't anymore.
