Search
  • chaoticallysmallpoetry

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.

0 views

Recent Posts

See All

Chain

Overwhelming myself with goals to complete in a day, when in reality, I can barely bring myself to get out of bed. It pulls me with it's chains, wanting me to stay there forever. Never letting me go t

Dreams

inspired by "Dreams" by Fleetwood Mac music has a way of resurfacing through the years, connecting to different generations, showing people they are not alone. Bands that my dad loved as a teenager, I

Chemical Reaction

breaking down bits of myself, dissolving like baking soda when it reacts to vinegar. I am weak. I am small. Taking in every insult and accepting it as truth. Drowing, and being washed away with cold w

©2019 by Chaotically Small Poetry. Proudly created with Wix.com