Yes, I get angry, and I hurt.

I scream, I sulk, I slam things.

I cry.

I pour on the super sweet,

I am trying to keep the peace.

I work hard to let things go.

I retreat into my own world.

The de facto stance of me.

I woke him up this morning,

Not even upset with him,

Just tired of the same ol’ shit.

Dishes piled, left for two days.

He knows to rinse out the damn cups.

But it really wasn’t toward him.

I don’t know why things bother me.

I smile through the moment,

And then, in my solitude, I vent.

Dropping the glass jars into the trash,

Because this hellhole doesn’t recycle,

Rescuing the wood cutting board

Left soaking in water, slamming it down.

I could never hurt a fly,

But there are times my tongue is razor sharp.

After all, no one is perfect.

I try to keep it to just me,

Only those closest see through,

The fake smile, the anxiety,

to the real me.

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