Poems.

I can feel

Anger.

I feel anger.

You ask me why, how, when.
You tell me things that I don’t understand.

But at the end of the day

I’m angry.

The boiling pot of flames on the stove does not compare
The thunder outside and the pouring rain cower in my anger.

I could light a match with the thoughts running inside my head
Punch a wall with the force of ten men.

Because I am angry.

Angry at the world for what it’s done to me.
Angry at the life I live without purpose.
Angry at everyone who seems to know where they are going in this town, this city, this world.

So I’m angry.

But I hide it inside.
I take that feeling I have and I let it go.
That gut-wrenching heartache I have
And I let it simmer in me for so long.

So everyone can think. . .

I’m calm.