Anger: It’s tightly clenched fist, broken teeth, rapid breaths.

It drives people away, and you convince yourself that they’re just afraid, but they’re not. That’s fine, though, because you like being alone. Anger is your strength, but what happens when it’s gone? When the echoes of your outbursts fade away?

Do you sit in the quiet of your room, blood tricking down from your head? Do you find yourself alone on the floor, wide-eyed and lost, tears streaming down your face? In those moments, are you truly angry, or have you ever been? Does anger guide your sight in the darkness, or do you prefer the absence of light?

You’re angry and you say you hate everyone but why do you beg to be saved?