My Anger

…My anger is sudden, but always lurking just below the surface. Up it comes at the most inopportune times. When I wake up, I can feel its tendrils already licking at my insides,  and if I let it, it would turn my heart into a charred piece of meat over the course of a day. Anger smells like a bonfire where the smoke chokes you but you’re cold so you just keep leaning in anyway. Anger promises the right to a wrong, whispers that you’ll feel better right after you give that clerk a piece of your mind. You could drown in anger’s promises before it fulfills one. Anger wears many masks, but its favorite is self-righteousness. Other times it will deign to appear as fear and self-protection. You’ll recognize it by the hot feeling in your stomach begging you to destroy something. I’ve heard anger is restorative, and I’m sure it can be since destruction is sometimes the first step to restoration. But anger is only a wrecking ball and you can hear it crashing around inside you. Anger is red, but it doesn’t sound like sirens, more like cannons. Inside, it burns while outside it punches. Its food is vitriol, the acid enhancing its potency like a tonic. The taste is like bile, but anger has no palette. Anger came here to take, and it doesn’t have any other motives. Anger is quick, swift, and sneaky, creeping up next to you without you ever having known it was coming, and if you don’t catch it…

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