A Moment of Rage

This is me trying to explain my feelings when I am mad.

A ball of rage lives inside of me. It twists

and turns and boils and flares and bursts,

only to be reconstructed into a bigger,

angrier ball.

It drives me crazy, it fills me up, it takes

me over, sometimes leaving me paralyzed,

unsure of what to do to fix it. I think I'm

crazy.

Correction.

I know I'm crazy.

I'm angry. I'm pissed off at the world and

I'm not sure why. I was wronged. I've been

wronged and thrown down so many times by

this careless world. The people here don't give

a f**k, they just want to get their fill of success

or whatever it is they're looking for.

I just want to escape. I want to go someplace where

anger just doesn't occur. I want to bang my fists against

the ground until they f*****g bleed. I want to smash things,

destroying them, similarly to how I've been destroyed.

I want things to know what it's like to feel like this. It isn't

easy being so sad and down all of the time. Being angry

at the world isn't easy and it hurts. It's as if a f*****g

dagger enters me each and every day. That's what I

feel like.

I go mad, I'm going mad, I am mad.

I'm f*****g insane.

I don't know how much longer I can go holding it

all in. I don't know how much longer I can hide it from

everyone. Nothing feels good.

Everything hurts.