I’m angry.
Not just a little
Boiling beneath the skin angry.
Expectancy.
Waiting for something
Anything … to shift,
But it hasn’t.
And it hurts.
Does this even make sense?
Maybe not.
But the feeling is real,
And it’s mine.
Some days,
I want to scream:
Forget you.
Forget her.
Forget them all.
And maybe that’s the scariest part
That anger has numbed me.

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Posted in 🕯 The Altar of Ruins
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