There is anger in the rain
Each drop a pellet that
doesn't break the skin
But bruises deep
There is anger in the air
Each breath drawing particles
that cannot be seen
But burns the lungs
There is anger in my tears
Each rivulet too small
to be called a river
But breaks the heart
There is anger in my heart
Each beat too soft
to be heard
But deafens out the universe
There is anger everywhere
In the rain, in the air, in my tears and in my heart.
Each scream into the void is
a brush stroke that slaps
against the canvas
that is now more black
than shades of in-between
There is anger in my soul
and anger is all I have left.
I don't want to be angry anymore.
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