Anger is a Thing with Feathers (Poem)

my anger is soft, white feathers

on a stunning bird who speaks in quiet tones,

but only knows swear words

my anger speaks up every so often,

only to get interrupted by a sentence that starts

“well, actually…”

my anger is a ship in a bottle, and it’s full of pirates

no one notices because they’re just so tiny and cute

my anger is silence because

I was told one too many times

to say nothing if I had nothing nice to say

trust me, I have nothing nice to say these days

my anger is clenched fists under tables because

everyone wants to talk about

how silly trigger warnings are,

but no one knows why they exist

my anger is brake lights

because I am pushing 20 over,

so how fast exactly are you going?

my anger is writing late into the night because

I can’t verbalize all this rage and still be myself

my anger is old and feeble from years of waiting

to become anything other than my thoughts

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