Categories > Original > Poetry
Anger is a vengeful betrayel bottled up in the core of my ghost,
Anger is a pound of salt being flung on my open, fresh wounds,
Anger is the sharpest needle penetrating into my fragile body repeatedly with no intention of stopping.
Angry because humanity plucked my hopes right of my grasp, slaughtering them one by one, leaving me with withered, lifeless dreams,
Angry because society thinks they have the right to swiftly pin a label on my indistinct being,
Angry because you call me out and shun me on my choices of interests, style, and attitude.
Maybe anger won't always bring pain to the center of my soul,
Maybe there is a new day for me when my mislead peers understand my gaudy decisions,
Maybe anger will slowly be masked with a bleary, appetizing pride.
Anger is a pound of salt being flung on my open, fresh wounds,
Anger is the sharpest needle penetrating into my fragile body repeatedly with no intention of stopping.
Angry because humanity plucked my hopes right of my grasp, slaughtering them one by one, leaving me with withered, lifeless dreams,
Angry because society thinks they have the right to swiftly pin a label on my indistinct being,
Angry because you call me out and shun me on my choices of interests, style, and attitude.
Maybe anger won't always bring pain to the center of my soul,
Maybe there is a new day for me when my mislead peers understand my gaudy decisions,
Maybe anger will slowly be masked with a bleary, appetizing pride.
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