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.