Anger

By , Livingston, NJ
A shade the color of rich red blood spreads across my face.
With balled up fists, heavy breathing, and clenched teeth













I stand there looking ahead through narrow eyes.
Momentarily, I have forgotten about my frail/ weak composition;
My physique temporarily replaced with that of the Hulk.
In a fit of blind fury, I reach for the first solid object I can get my hands on;
An audible “THUMP” sounds as the object hits the ground after sailing through the air and then smacking against the wall.
It now lies in a crumpled heap, defeated.
I begin to scream; the objective?
To belittle you like you belittled me.
To cripple you like you crippled me.
To underestimate you like you underestimated me.
If revenge is the best medicine, then I have never felt better in all my life.
After I am finished, I look in the mirror.
My face is sweaty and drained of color.
My hair is all over the place; in all, I am a mess.
Who was I a minute ago?
Why do I feel this way?





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