When I get angry, I pause
in the tension,
just a baby,
no reason to be angry,
but I’m bubbling angry,

so I hate myself
for that.
I hate the child in
me who will never grow
up, never be cured.

I’ll tell you I don’t get angry.
I get sad, I get depressed,
I get relieved when
lucky, but I lie and say
I don’t get angry

because I don’t want to be
a little child nor a scary
monster, so when
I get angry, I hate
myself and remember

that I was poorly designed
for this world.

.