I'm Too Angry

What do I have to say other than angry things?
I've been told that I'm harsher and meaner.
Maybe that's true; maybe I'm sick of being trampled on.
Maybe I'm sick of being alone, sick of being tired all the time.

Why do they want me to praise something I don't believe?
I can't let it out if it's not there for me to tap into.
Anger crowds my innermost being and my good judgement has evaporated into thin air.

Right now, I'm cloaked in darkness and I like it.
I like being hidden from them and I like not being seen.
I'm attacked by a thousand different demons and I can't seem to figure out where I've gone.

Have I had the wrong intentions, trying to walk outside of my burning house?
I think so because I'm getting cut and stabbed every time I've stepped a foot out of this circle.

Why isn't anyone listening?
If you are listening, why don't you care?
If you care, why haven't you stopped the whips and scorns?

Now you are just a fairytale to me.