Today I sit with my rage.
I cower in the corner,
Praying she doesn't see me,
Eyes closed so I can't to look at her either,
Because my rage is not pretty,
And I'm scared that she'll find me.
Scared that she'll take over,
Rip my skin off and replace it with hers,
Slide herself into my bones,
Like I'm simply a costume made of flesh.
Scared she'll take over my mind,
Scared I'll let her,
Scared there'll be no one there to stop her,
Because nobody loves my rage,
As much as I do,
And she knows it too.
Last updated on:2026-08-22T22:44:11+05:30
Comments (3)
this is heavy stuff, and i really hope you're talking to someone about it outside of here too. when my thoughts started feeling this intense and all-consuming, i needed more than my own head to sit with them, and reaching out helped more than i expected.
does your rage feel aimed at someone or something specific, or is it more like it's become its own presence that shows up no matter what started it?
i've had anger after a breakup that felt so big it almost felt like another person living inside me, and i was terrified of what it said about me. the line about your rage wearing your skin, yeah... i know that feeling.