Interlude: I’m Not Angry Anymore

by suicidallyanonymous

I’d melt my disgust if I could,
and pour it into their hands.
Maybe then they’d find
another train-wreck back home,
so I don’t crave
the way they suffocate themselves
in buckets
of low self-esteem.

[It’s not my fault
that I can’t hurt like them.]

I am the doormat holding on
to every speck
of malice and sarcasm,
because they gave them to me
neatly wrapped
in muddy brown paper,
with silly string bows.

And deep inside
where the purity was molested
by illusions of friendship
and tuning forks;
I murdered the cold

[and it bled technicolor
just because it could;
because the world is racist,
and sexist,
and homophobic.
And it gets confusing
when you don’t know who died,
but you can blame it on me].

I’d try to convince you
that you should cower in fear,
but my claws are sharp enough
to slice your skin in secret…

Move along, grave-digger,
it’s your turn
to clock-out.

One Comment to “Interlude: I’m Not Angry Anymore”

  1. This is one of the best things i have ever read. Wow. This is brilliant!

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