Anger's Fire

Anger like hot coals on my back, I hear it sizzle, crack, caught off guard by delusions of an easy future, my life held captive by karma’s whisper, a past life retribution, I wish I could unchain myself, melt into someone’s lucid dream, ask them to help me escape, shrink back into reality, meet my savior in wolf’s clothing,

/

I am tired of being stuck here.

//

I am not strong, I am weak, but not weak like glass, weak like wood, I burn easily but I bend when things get rocky, I’ll keep your shivering bones warm just be careful where you keep your candles. Even in a fiery rage I am useful.

/

I am not strong, I am weak like wood. Call mama Redwood and tell her I need her, that I’ve been cut up and carved into something people only need when they’re lost. Call Mama Redwood and tell her I’m lost too. I am not strong, I am weak.

/

Please, stop letting the word “resilient” slip out of your lips into the atmosphere when you are near me. I am tired. The only reason this foundation still stands is because no one has had enough strength to burn it down. They may need it for later. So they are careful where they keep their candles.

//

Normally I'd sift through my poems, edit them, hunt for better metaphors and stronger words. But these two? I wrote them in a burst of raw emotion. For the longest time, writing stopped being my go-to coping mechanism. Unhealthy habits took its place. This time, though, anger hit and my first thought was, "I'm gonna write." Now I can't stop crying as I type this. I've found my happy place again. It feels huge. I know this is a bit rambly, but that's okay.