My anger turns to sadness,
my tears form into fangs.
I taste salt and blood as they sharpen,
as they carve me into something unrecognizable.
I see myself as a spectator,
watching as the transformation takes over.
My words become knives, my heart turns to stone,
and I can not stop them.
they spill from my lips like venom,
like I am possessed.
And I am possessed.
This anger is not me.
This anger is not anger.
It is fear wrapped in fire,
hurt dressed as rage,
sabotage disguised as strength.
It is pain, plain and simple.
And it devours me whole.