a transport

does this anger belong to me?
they say own it
but it’s a trick
a lie of someone else
i invested in myself

it rises up
a snake inside
acid heartburn
switchblade tongue
and i am unsure

there’s a heat
there’s a mechanism
there’s a schism
there’s a prism

it’s a cruel ice-pick in the back anger
a scorpion lie of anger
a buried to long glad to be free anger
something ugly and twisted
something unadmitted
and it preys on the weak
using me to speak


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