Anger

Anger is something that is foreign to me.

I rarely get angry

because I was taught by the world

that anger isn’t pretty.

When I get angry,

I can’t speak.

I can’t think.

I physically get uncomfortable

because I am not familiar with the emotion.

I want to run

but I can’t run from myself.

I want to scream

but I can’t speak because my voice is still.

Anger is something that has erupted within me now,

because I only have one living grandparent

because I am single

because some of my family doesn’t approve of what I do.

But I have been told by my therapist

that anger is just the surface

and underneath is sadness.

That is the only way I can rationalize

Anger.

Because sadness

is recognizable.

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