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Anger.

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the throat is dry, coarse and pulsating.

the screaming and yelling echoes throughout the halls as doors are slammed, things are said, never to be repeated. it goes on and on, never seeming to stop.

words start to get clouded, everything starts blurring and the feelings you have just can’t be expressed. you want to walk away but the prodding keeps you going, keeps provoking you.
they’re asking for it.

you want to scream at the top of your lungs, choke things, break glass. but here you are, only being able to write about what you feel, about what you wish you could do, about why you feel this way.

everythings shaking and as you look up you’re unsure where to go or which path to take, how to handle anything when you’re not sure whats going on itself. and there

they go, walking off blissfully. laughing at, how they hurt you, how you reacted, and how you feel. you want to scream, but nothing comes out. wounded, you won’t let it show.
so you end up stuck.

at the corner of anger and pride. i just need to get back home.



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