i have never had a wonderful day and wanted to slave over the keyboard for hours in a frenzy feeling pain come up and down and in and out and pure exhaustion and climax

i have never had a wonderful day and had a brain full of dark ideas that most people would be afraid to put on paper

those ideas feel the best to get out like breaking a law like kissing your sister

when peace when forgiveness when charity when happiness

feels as good as expelling demons on the poem

i will pick a religion

until then i would rather keep my anger

Knuckles bled, Callous palms. Nothing is fed. Refusing my calm.

Mortar broken, Dust covering my face. Hands red again, You chose to incase.

Teeth gritted, Biting my tongue. Anger fitted, Because you were done.

Knuckles bare, Nails dug in. Choose to share, Give me this sin.

Wall full of dents, Forehead red, Patience is spent, Listening to what you said.

…

I love you Baby 🖤

They say forgiveness is a virtue. And holding on to bitterness will hurt you. But I’d rather keep my anger. In case you forget to act like a stranger.

My anger is hungry. Its stomach growls, its hands reach. But there is nothing there. There is nothing to be angry at.

Like birds on a wire, I watch, and I wait.

I am kind, and I forgive. But you are at my front door. And no longer am I proud of these virtues, I do not want them when it comes to you.

Wheat stalks blow in the wind, a pig is slaughtered next door.

There is a heart-beat coming from the forest. It is so loud, and so fast. And terrifying. It is Autumn, It is mine. The leaves keep falling.

The paint is red, and peeling. I too, am red, and peeling.

A cow pelt hangs in my kitchen, and I wonder how she felt when she was taken from her calf. I do not have children. Is death merciful? I hope it was for her.

Crows fight over carrion, and the cracks in the asphalt shrink under the burning sun.

You are back, and pleading. I want to keep my anger. You remind me of that pig, loud and scared. But I look at you, and your teeth are sharp. To me you are pathetic. I shut my front door, and in the silence I forgive you.

You hear. It is not meant for your ears.

It is meant for mine.

They say forgiveness is a virtue, but I’d rather keep my anger.

I’d rather yell at you until I’m purple. Scream the words I know will hurt you. Be brave and bold, covered in rage.

Because I know the day I feel it, I’ll drown in sorrow. Anger, I can do. But to be hurt, and to forgive, I dont have the strength to survive that. And I’d rather keep my anger.

You pour your heart right into my glass, The sour tang stings my tongue, Bitter as the night you left, it slithers down my throat.

Your apologies hang in the air, A fruitless pursuit. Yet my taste is acquired, a bittersweet refrain, Lingering flavours of pining amidst the ache of regret.

They say forgiveness is a virtue But I’d rather keep my anger This anger you created Made me grow stronger

they say forgiveness is a virtue, but i’d rather keep my anger than to be marked by the things you should have just said…

because repetition is never dead.

So many have told me To forgive, to forget, But I never will, I’d rather keep my anger.

My anger, My rage, For so long, They’ve been locked in a cage…

But now, I let them run wild.

They say Forgiveness is a virtue, But I’d rather keep my Anger.

My anger will cause pain To all those who have Belittled me, Mocked me, Hurt me. But this so called “virtue” That is forgiveness, It won’t.

I’m just taking back What’s rightfully mine: My dignity. Their faces will be covered in black And blue.

They say Forgiveness is a virtue, But is rather keep my Anger.

They say forgiveness is a virtue,
but I’d rather keep my rage.
I’d rather let it smolder under my skin,
slowly becoming a beast.

Your words only feed it,
sharp and bitter,
slicing deeper,
fueling the blaze.
No mercy.

I can feel the burn,
and the needles sinking in,
reminding me of this madness,
reminding me why I stay here.
But I’d rather be this—
a monster
than the other side of me.

The side that aches with love.
How I trace every freckle on your face,
wondering how the sun
chose you to carry her light.

Why not me?
Why can’t I be the one
with the freckles
and the freedom to feel?

So I will let this anger swallow me whole.
Yes,
that’s what I’ll do.