Anger Is Born Without A Reflection

Criminal to those I hold close.
Imprisoned within a stigma I seem unable to outgrow.
Only solution I can find is detaching from this glass house,
Before my roof caves in and stabs the thickest shard down my throat.
Create a world where I can voice my worth through poems engraved in a place inside of my heart,
I can only access by allowing Life to Be and show,
What was already written underneath any spec of Light…

Because,
The one thing I’m guilty of,
Is letting my demons convince me to think I was crazy.
Hysterical.
Out of touch with reality,
While trying my best patch up fresh wounds and move on from the Culprit.
So,
Doused in Insanity,
Insomnia was the only thing left to adopt because of my need for a full pen,
Pad and each!
Memory fueling stories I was meant to write…

Yet,
It doesn’t mean that I’m right about all that I do.
Especially,
When your emotions are ravaged by a spirit of anger,
Manifested by words turned into daggers,
Thrown by whom seemed to no longer matter.
But,
Aren’t I acquiescing that angry spirit to cut deep,
By letting it take up space in my mind needing to be empty!
Of what makes me sadder?…

Maybe,
I am a criminal.
A criminal to myself every moment the keys to my Safe slip,
And got out of pocket.
By using the same daggers even if I was a bad shot as…
My way of getting my revenge…
Knowing kindness kills along with Love,
Strong enough to make it all end…