Posts Tagged ‘Poems about Self Anger’



I hadn’t thought of her

in a very long time


she probably hasn’t

thought of me

in a very long time


I can’t think why

she would think of me

for I hurt her terribly;

I’ve long since forgiven


for the teenage

asshole I was

but I still carry this

with me today


I hope that she doesn’t


that I’m as good as dead

as far as her

memory is concerned;

I deserve to be.











I shove my anger in a drawer.

I stroll through fields, wallow in anthemis.

Sun gleams with fresh light.

You can do that when you’re not mad at anything.


My anger breathes better when it’s stowed away.

Though it’s far from me, in dark, it doesn’t know that

Underwear and socks, meet the stain on my heart.

Though it makes itself comfortable, it is still anger.


My anger is a fire in a cold, cold place.

It kills what comes close, mostly itself.

It becomes nostalgic, hasn’t seen a bruise in years.


I return home and let it out.

It joins me in restless sleep.

My body’s tanned a little.

My dreams have claws.