im angry.

what at?

i wish i could tell you

instead, my rage holds roots in a timeline of shortcomings

i don’t forgive, yet i certainly do forget

with anger, the specifics all blur together

my deep-rooted fury can’t and won’t extinguish

trial after trial in personal judgement, i can no longer prevent my self fulfilled prophecy

i am a walking ball of fire, created from a child’s dream of control

i hold the will and capability to burn anything and everything nearby

yet i still hold on to some sort of redemption

too little, too late

i endure the painful weight

bite my tongue, scratch my blazing skin

because the cursed can’t win

my fire, one i can call my own

my glory, something that can never be shown

this agony no longer belongs to the miserable girl within

innocent desires of protection, now a willful state of being

seeing, breathing, living, is a matter of reliance upon the familiar

my sense of peace finds its home in a cycle of the peculiar

i am used to rejection, deflection, then reflection

and blame cannot be placed anywhere besides the soul of the walking paradox

my fire can now be viewed as magnificent, my process of reclaiming what was once my survival

but can atonement become reliant upon this sort of revival?

the devil and angel on my shoulders are now indiscernible

two beings in one, two voices amounted to none

my battle must be fought alone

this wildfire listens only to the space where a victim once stood

i claw and scream into the role of a girl gone good

these blazing regrets are never significant behind closed doors

yet it’s becoming harder and harder to contain this looming burden

my forest has been invaded for far too long, painted red by promises of what remains ‘yours’

if i wake up and see the red finally sending a welcome, say your goodbyes to the girl you once knew as utterly numb